


Who knows what I'll think of next

by Sinstigator



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blood, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Creampie, Fluff, Monsters, Other, Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, Public Sex, Sex, Supernatural Elements, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinstigator/pseuds/Sinstigator
Summary: This is going to be where I dump all my Overwatch Sin. There will sometimes be angst as well.





	1. Omega!Genji/Alpha!Reader: Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Just some random sin I decided to try, enjoy!

The first wave of heat hit the cyborg like a punch in the chest, heat blossoming out from his gut that left him sagging against the wall. The crimson warning beacon blared angrily at him from within his visor. 

Internal temperature increasing.

Abnormal fluctuation in hormone levels detected.

Immediate action is advised.

The same message had been scrolling across his info feed for hours. Now he was starting to wish he'd gone to Angela when he'd had the chance. The doctor had been called away on business a few days ago, and there had been no news about when she would return. 

The second wave was worse. It knocked him to the ground as an explosion of heat in enveloped his core. His vision blurred, vents on his shoulders activating with a hiss. Hands scrabbling to purchase on the smooth floor. 

What is-

-Something wet coated his thighs, dribbled down his thighs, sending shivers racing up the youngest shimada’s spine. The heavy feeling between his legs something he hadn’t experienced in years. 

“No,” Genji’s wail came out hoarser than usual. Heavy and metallic. “Nononono not now! I can’t...I shouldn’t be able to-” Even with metallic fingers there was no way he could mistake the feeling of slick on them, coating his thighs. And that could only mean one thing.

Something he never thought he would experience ever again.  
His heat was starting.

The third wave forced the air from his lungs, a single drawn out whine that echoed throughout the empty hallway. The lingering scents of all the others melding together in one thick soupy mix, only surpassed by the sharp tang that was unmistakably Alpha.

Alpha. 

The word alone made every nerve in his body sing like they’d been shocked to life. And it wasn’t just any Alpha’s scent Genji was focusing on. It was yours. He’d always found your scent enjoyable, calming even. But now...

The smell of burning wood and cloves filtered through the cyborg’s visor, urging him to his feet again, calling him. That all too familiar scent leading him blindly down the corridor, legs barely able to support him. Poor Genji practically collided with the door to your room, too busy following his nose. Another groan, muffled by his mask, drifted through the hall. Fingers pushing incessantly at the keypad. He needed to get in there.

What was the code? Whatwasthe-

-The door flew open with a hiss, and Genji tumbled inside. 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •

With a nod and an exhausted wave you bid farewell to your teammates. Although the previous mission had been a success, things had been touch and go for the longest time. The constant stress threatening to break you down at any moment. Even so, you’d somehow managed to get the job done early. Returning to base a full two weeks ahead of schedule, and you couldn’t wait to get back to your room. 

While everyone else rushed off to fill their bellies you just wanted to shower and collapse into your warm, soft bed. But, for you, food could come later.  
You slapped your hand against the keypad, frowning when it didn’t open right away. 

Did I lock this before I left? 

Your brows came together in a frown, but no matter how hard you tried it was impossible to force your sluggish mind to remember anything with the promise of sleep so close. Your fingers skimmed the keypad, entering the code with practiced ease as you hike the duffel bag higher onto your shoulder. 

The door slid open allowing a massive wall of steam to escape, slapping you in the face.

“What the…?” Eyes wide you stormed in, allowing your duffel to fall to the floor with a thud, forgotten. A thick curtain of steam had settled in your room, perfectly sealed inside by the door. Turning your room into a makeshift sauna. The moisture clung to your hair and skin as you pushed your way through the smog, the constant heat making it hard to breathe. Bits of metal scattered haphazardly across the floor. Metal that seemed oddly familiar for some reason. You frowned, waving a hand before you in an attempt to disperse some of the steam.

Is someone using my shower? 

It was the only thing you could think of.

But there was something else. Something lurking beneath the heavy scent of steam that had caught your attention. Tilting your head back you sucked in a deep breath, filtering through the myriad of smells around you. Dust, That orange scented furniture polish you were forced to use, the mint oil diffuser zenyatta said was would help relieve your everyday stress, and…

….Oh

A growl rumbled low in your throat, you knew that scent. Incense and metal amplified by the unmistakable odor omega’s secreted while in heat. You’d encountered omega’s in heat before, it had become a part of your life. Especially with so many agents living together in such close quarters, but this time it was a particular omega. The one you’d been harboring...particular feelings for. The one whose scent seemed to have invaded your room during your mission.

The younger Shimada brother and all around cyborg ninja.

Genji Shimada.

“Genji?” You swallowed hard, throat dry and tongue thick. Why were you suddenly so nervous? “Are you in here?” A resounding whine was your answer, needy, bordering on pained. It drew you further into your room, around the corner towards your bed. 

And there he was, sprawled out on your bed in a net of his own making. A nest that was nearly completely built out of your clothes. You didn’t bother to hide the possessive growl that rose up from within. The sight of the male on your bed, snuggling into a nest made of your clothes. Back arched, legs spread wide, the cyborg turned toward you and moaned. Loud. One hand stroking the metallic rod that served as his cock, the other knuckles deep in that glistening cunt. 

Angela gave him both? Fuck!

He flushed, but didn’t stop his movements. Smearing precum down the ridged shaft pulsing in his grasp.“You...weren’t supposed to be back so soon…” A shiver ran through him and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Only now did you realize that he wasn’t wearing his visor, face bare and shining with a thin sheen of sweat. “This-I didn’t think this could happen anymore-”

You took a step forward, lured closer by the the heady scent. Just as alluring as the Omega who was secreting it. Genji had never gone through a heat as long as you’d known him. Truthfully, you had just come to believe that the ninja was taking heat suppressants to avoid the situation all together. But, now, seeing him so spread out and obviously needy on your bed left you feeling a little conflicted.

What were you supposed to do? Sure, the Alpha part of you was practically begging to ease him through his heat. Have him writhing beneath you, clawing at the sheets as your knot locked the two of you together. Voice cracking as not even his synthetic vocal cords could handle the strain. You licked your lips.

“-Do you want me to leave?” You blurted out, tearing your eyes away from the precum beading at his head. It might be your room, but you could at least afford to give him some privacy. “I can..” You swallowed again, glancing back towards the door, “Go get someone--Angela?” His scent began to invade your senses, even stronger than before. 

Genji smirked face flushing as his scent spiked again, spreading those legs of his even wider. For some reason you weren’t surprised at the ninja’s flexibility. “Actually…” Genji took his time withdrawing his fingers, making a show of smearing his juices all over his slit before spreading those puffy, synthetic lips for you. Core, bright, slick, and green. “Would you be willing to help me, Alpha?….my beloved Alpha”

You nearly tripped over your pants in your rush to be rid of them.

The cyborg’s grin was all teeth as you pulled him onto your lap, and he wasted no time attacking your neck with sloppy open mouthed kisses. Making his was up to your jaw before sealing your lips with his own. You groaned, pushing back against those scarred, puffy lips in earnest. Forcing your tongue into his mouth, drinking up his whimpers of approval. He fought back of course, refusing to back down in the slightest. Genji was going to make you work for every whimper you pulled from him.

While Genji was distracted by your tongue you ran your hands down his back, rubbing at the mixture of both organic and synthetic flesh. Reveling in every twitch and shiver you caused. Slowly, your hands made their way past the curve of his back and down to his hips. Digging your fingers into the supple flesh of his ass, you hauled him up. Your lips separated with a pop, a single strand of saliva the only thing connecting you. “Are you ready for me, Genji?” Heat or no heat, you still wanted to make sure he was alright with all of this--with having you.

A mischievous glint appeared in his eye and Genji snorted, angling his hips to grind his slit against your dick,already thick and throbbing much like his own. Taking great pleasure in the sounds you made, “Is that a serious question?” Did you honestly think he’d be here if he didn’t want to be?

“Alright then, fine.” You ground out. If that’s how he wanted to play, two could play that game. You lowered your head, peppering his chest with kisses as you slowly slipped your cock past his folds. He gasped, arching into you as his hands flew to your shoulders, grasping desperately, kneading your flesh. The man moaned like a porn star. You took him slowly, inch by inch, until he was shaking by the time you’d fully sheathed yourself within him. Little needy whimpers breathed into your ear as he urged you to move.

But, you didn’t.You sat perfectly still and busied yourself by nibbling at his throat. You had to bite down harder on the synthetic muscle to get the same reaction, but the sounds Genji made were well worth it.

“Pleeease.” He sobbed, metallic fingers clutching at your shoulders. They would surely leave bruises later. Your iron grip on his hips kept him from moving, “Move!”

You pulled away, eyeing the marks on the cyborgs neck with pride before pegging him with a glare, “Next time, don’t be a smart ass if you still want me to fuck you.” You emphasized your point with a snap of your hips, smirking at the way his body seized up, back arching and mouth open in a silent moan. He nodded furiously, babbling apologies as you launched into a rapid pace. Deep punishing thrusts that had the cyborg clinging to you for dear life. 

“Please...please!” His voice cracked as you bounced him up and down, muscles coiling tighter and tighter. The wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. Smirking you maneuvered a hand between your bodies, palming him. It felt rougher than you expected, the synthetic skin grabbing at the flesh of your hand. 

Slowly, you could feel the knot at your base starting to swell, ready to be buried within the Shimada riding you. You groaned, “ Are you ready for me, Genji?” palming him as you bit down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “I’m going to mark you, inside- make you mine, forever.” A growl bubbled up from your chest at the thought, “ Fill you up so much there’s no way you won’t be having my pups.” He nodded, a tiny whimper the only response he was capable of making. Eyes screwed shut, lost in the pleasure building inside him Genji had never looked more delicious to you. Whimpering desperately as your knot kissed his entrance with every thrust. 

Without warning you slammed up into him, locking yourself in place with one sharp thrust, hissing through gritted teeth as you spilled deep within the cyborg. Hips jerking erratically as his walls twitched around you, trying to draw you in even further and milk you for all you were worth. 

Genji howled, clawing at your back, feet digging into the sheets as his own orgasm tore through him. Scrambling his system and sending shocks of pleasure all the way to his toes. Clear, sticky fluid splattered across his chest, glistening against the mix of metal and skin. He jerked once, twice, and then sagged against you. Nuzzling against your neck with a content hum, making himself comfortable even as you continued to twitch inside him. He wouldn’t be able to move anytime soon even if he wanted to, not with you situated inside him so snugly.

Slowly, you maneuvered yourself onto your back, Genji lying on top of you. The light sheen of sweat on your skin making you shiver. Idly, you began rubbing his thighs while waiting to catch your breath. So, you were more than shocked when Genji suddenly pushed himself up before grinning boyishly down at you as he licked his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re finished already?”


	2. Walls (Jesse X Moira)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some attempted angst between the cowboy and an OC.

“In each of your hands, there is a button.” 

 

True to it’s words, there is indeed a button strapped to each of their hands. The disembodied voice that sprouts from the speakers above sounds almost excited. Eerily so, as the two figures struggle fruitlessly against their bindings. The chains are large and thick, almost comically so, the links as big as their wrists. The rattling of chains and grunting fill the area for a moment before it continues. Their situation ignored.

 

“And it is this button that will decide whether you will live…or die.”

 

“You can take yer button and shove it up yer ass!” Jesse growls as he fights against the chains as best he can with one arm, his mechanical one having already been gone when he awoke in the small space. Strung up and facing the glass wall that separates him from Moira.

 

The female in question gives him an exasperated look from behind her darkened bangs as she tests her own chains, “Should you really be telling our captor to ‘shove it’ when they so clearly have the upper hand?”

 

He only grins and reminds her of the distress beacon he activated before they were taken.

 

“The rules of this game are simple.” Static crackles as the voice continues on, unfazed by their conversation, or the mention of the distress beacon. “Whoever presses the button...will die.”

 

Moira stiffened, glancing down at the button taped to her hand, mind already coming up with numerous horrible scenarios that could be set off at the push of a button. “We’ll die?...Is it some kind of bomb? Or maybe....a gassing chamber?”

 

“So what’s the catch?” Chains clinking as he shifts, Jesse eyes the speaker above him. “Ya tellin’ me this thing’s gonna kill me… why the hell would I press it?”

 

There’s only a slight pause before the speakers crackle to life once more. “The room you are currently held in is completely airtight. Do you know how long it would take for that space to fill with carbon dioxide-” 

 

“-Carbon...dioxide?” The word settles into the back of the girl’s mind like a long forgotten memory, but it doesn’t take long for her to connect the dots. “I don’t understand. You’re making it seem like you’re giving us a chance to survive, but we’re going to die regardless, aren’t we?”

 

“....You did not let me finish, agent Cannon.” The words are laced with such hostility that it shocks both of them, having mistaken the voice for a recording of some kind. “I do not take kindly to being interrupted.” 

 

Moira deflates, hunkering down into the metal links, expression akin to a scolded child, “....sorry?”

 

“As I was saying, whoever presses the button will die, but they will be given a choice. Carbon dioxide poisoning or they can transfer the remaining oxygen to the other side of the room.” Any hostility is gone, once again replaced with that out of place cheer. “When a button is pressed, the opposite person will be free to leave the room and this facility unchallenged.” A chuckle, light and airy filtered through the speakers, “As I said, the game is quite simple...All you have to do...is convince the person in front of you... to die.”

 

The speakers shut off with a click, encasing the pair in silence. The heavy atmosphere weighing them both down. Minutes pass before the cowboy opens his mouth again, voice confident and comforting, “Don’t ya worry one hair on yer pretty little head, sweetheart. M’ sure the others’ll be here fore long.”

 

His attempt to reassure her aren’t lost on Moira, and she offers a shaky smile in return. Jesse’s ability to remain optimistic in situations like this was one of the many things Moira adored about the cowboy. But, optimism alone wasn’t going to get them out of this mess.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

4 hours later...Sweat dotted the female’s forehead, causing her hair to stick to stick to her face in clumps. Muscles twitching as the sound of her own heartbeat thundered in her ears. Four hours. Amber orbs trailed over to Jesse’s form on the opposite side of the wall. Her vision blurred, and it took far too long to refocus that time.

 

We’ve been here for four hours...   
Four hours of struggling against those chains.  
Four hours of desperately trying to control her breathing.  
Four hours of trying to force herself to believe Jesse’s encouraging words.

 

...And four hours of slowly realizing that she was failing at that as well. 

 

“Wow, you fucked up again. What a surprise.” The harsh voice causes her to jump. Heart slamming against her chest. “Should be used to letting people down by now…”

 

That voice...no. Breath catching in her throat Moira whips her head to the left, wincing as pain lanced through her brain at the sudden movement. Vision swimming she’s barely able to make out the gaunt figure of a man leaning against the wall.

 

His eyes were grey and sunken, framed by dark circles. Lips twisted into a sadistic smirk.

 

Her father.

 

A second voice, heavily slurred piped up from her right. “C’mooon, Frank! Leave ‘er alone! She gave it her bess shot! S’not he fault she’s a shit lookout.” 

 

Moira didn’t even need to look back, she knew that voice just as well. If her father was here, her mother wouldn’t be far behind. “What do you want?” She wheezed, cursing the tremor in her voice. “You can’t be here….”

 

Frank chuckled, as he knelt before his daughter, eyes as black as coal. “I’m here to put an end to your stallin’ idiot.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

“You can’t be here….”

 

It’s Moira’s tiny voice that pulls the cowboy out of his stupor, blinking hard as he brings his head up, “Ya say somethin’ darlin?”

 

She doesn’t reply, staring straight ahead. Right through him, eyes abnormally wide.

 

One by one the hairs on the back of Jesse’s neck stand up straight. “Pumpkin?”

 

Her eyes dart to the left, then right. Chest heaving as her mouth moves wordlessly.

 

“Moira?” The gunslinger raises his voice, wincing at the fire burning in his lungs. The air thick and heavy in his chest. “Darlin’ what’s wrong? Talk ta me.”

 

The spear wielder shakes her head as a high pitched wail forces its way past her lips. The heels of her boots scraping against the floor as she fights against the chains. Eyes screwed shut as if she’s in pain.

 

That’s when he hears it, the tiny tremor of her voice, barely audible through the wall. Small and fragile, so unlike the woman he’s come to love.

 

“..stop. Just stop..If you stop, I’ll do it. I’ll make you proud-I promise....”

 

“Moira, darlin’ calm down!” Sweat dribbled down his neck, soaking into his shirt. His vision wavered again. “Just breathe for me. Can ya do that? Take a deep breath.” Gritting his teeth the cowboy lurched forward, growling at the metal coils tightening around his body. “We’re gonna be just fine.”

 

She jerked, amber orbs brightening slightly in a moment of clarity, “We’re...gonna be ok?”

 

He nodded, lips twitching into what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Sure are..We’ve been in worse scraps, an’ we always make it out!” Her head fell again and the gunslinger swallowed, hard. Her silence was beginning to scare him more than anything. “I’ll get us outta this mess, sweetheart, promise.”

 

Moira shuddered, head rolling back to stare at the speakers built into the ceiling. “ I shouldn't've come...should’ve told jack to take me off this mission-”

 

“-Now ya know that ain’t true!”

 

She nodded to herself, oblivious to Jesse’s outburst. “Reinhardt would’ve been better, he’s strong. Or maybe Genji.” A broken laugh. “Genji would’ve heard them coming…”

 

“Pumpkin, ya know this ain’t yer fault!” Jesse was back at the chains with renewed vigor, alarm bells blaring in his head right along with that pounding headache. Pulling and twisting at the metal links with his human arm, even his teeth. “Just-Just hold on! Gimme a minute to fix this.”

 

That seemed to catch her attention. “Fix...this?” Another slow nod accompanied by a hesitant smile. “ I can fix it...It’s my fault, so I have to, right? I have to make up for everything.” Her hand twitched, the one taped to the button, thumb stroking the thing like it was something precious. 

 

“Darlin’” A shiver ran down the cowboy’s spine, muscles tensing. His eyes flickered to the deadly device in her hand. “Now don’t ya go doin’ somethin’ crazy.”

 

Moira’s eyes were too dark when she finally met his gaze. Her thumb lifter, hovering just above the button. “I have to start cleaning up my own messes.” 

 

And then she brought her thumb down.

 

“MOIRA!!” His voice reverberated off the walls, startling her enough for her finger to slip off the detonator without actually pressing it. Leaning as far forward as he was able, Jesse tried to catch her gaze again. Metal links straining to keep him in place, “Moira, sweetheart, listen ta me. Don’t do this! We still got time-ta-” His throat tightened, choking him until his voice cracked. “We still gotta-I still gotta marry you!”

 

Surprise leaked into her otherwise vacant expression, “...what?”

 

Frank snorted as he glared over his shoulder, “So what? Marriage or no marriage, it won’t change how much of a failure you are.”

 

“She can’t help but be swayed by such sweet words, honey.” Abigail snickered, resting her chin on her hand to better watch the cowboy ramble on.

 

“And-And have some little ones of our own!” He cried. “Don’t ya remember? We talked about it, a boy and a girl...O-Or two girls! They’ll shoot like their daddy n’ be as beautiful as their mama.”

 

“There’s no way you could possibly fuck up both of them, right?” Abigail murmured, running a hand over Moira’s shoulder. “Not even you could mess up that badly!”

 

She couldn’t...right?

 

“And we’re supposed ta buy a nice little house somewhere warm.” He was gasping now, fighting for every breath as he pushed himself up onto his knees. “Ya know I ain’t partial ta the cold, but you’d convince me ta vacation up north somewhere so the girls’d always have snow on christmas.”  
Frank howled with laughter, head tossed back, teeth gleaming. “Does he actually think a part-time librarian and pole dancer would be able to afford a house, let alone a vacation?”

 

She winced, he was right. He was always right.

 

“Please~” The gunslinger croaked, eyes brimming with unshed tears. He ducked his head, hat tumbling to the ground as his forehead met the concrete. “We’re supposed to be that old couple that’s still in love n’ makes all the kids sick!” 

 

One by one, tears dripped onto the stone-like material.

 

“I;ll beg if I have ta-as many times as it takes! Spend the rest of my life givin’ ya whatever ya want!” The tears fell faster as he shook, sobs barely contained behind clenched teeth. “Moira...please...I can’t lose you like this!”

 

Moira smiled as those words washed over her. Vision blurry with her own tears. How could she not? Hearing Jesse go on and on about how much he loved her. How he’d already planned their future together. It left a delightfully pleasant warmth in her chest. “Jesse...thank you.”

 

The sound of his name on her lips brought his head up. Eyes already reddening and skin damp as more tears trailed down his cheeks only to get lost in the tangle of his beard.

 

“I love you so much.”

 

His eyes widened, hope seeping back into them as he pulled against the chains once more. “N’ I love you t-”

 

“-And that’s exactly why I can’t let you die here. I won’t.”

 

For such a small button the sound it made when pressed was deafening. Louder than any gunshot or explosion Jesse had ever heard. He was frozen in place, eyes glued to Moira’s face. Studying how the tears fell freely now, catching on her lashes and sparkling from the overhead lights. And even so, she was smiling, lips pulled tight and trembling as if she were going to laugh and cry at the same time.

 

But, it was the crackling of the speakers that shook Jesse from his stupor.

 

“So, it is you who has pressed the kill switch, Agent Cannon.”

 

Moira nodded raising her gaze skyward, trying to spare herself from witnessing the crumbling expression on Jesse’s face when she spoke. “Yes, That’s it, right? I pressed the button, so he can leave?”

 

“Correct, you have pressed the kill switch.” The voice explained, eerily delighted once more. “And as promised, Agent McCree will be free to leave unchallenged.”

 

She closed her eyes in relief, sagging against the wall. “Good.”

 

“Aint nuthin ‘good’ about this!” Jesse shook his head, shoulders sagging as he shouted up at the speakers, the weight of everything crushing him.” Darlin’ please….Don’t..tell em’-tell em’ it was a mistake! Ya just made a mistake n’ yer finger slipped!”

 

If this were any other situation she would’ve laughed, and probably gone along with him. But, she couldn’t. “Jesse” Her voice was small, thick with the fresh tears being held at bay. But, he wasn’t listening, too caught up in frantically clinging to any sliver of hope he could find. 

 

“N’ I know how ya get when yer nervous-”

 

Her chest felt heavy, as if someone had dropped a cinder block on it. Each breath burned, and was only made worse by the thunderous pounding inside her head. A full body tremor jolted her against the wall, forcing the air from her lungs in a rush. “-Je...ss”

 

Everything felt...heavy.

 

“-Yer hands shake n’ sometimes ya can’t think straight-.”

 

It hurt. Everything Hurt. She couldn’t keep her eyes open.

 

“-Sometimes ya stutter n’ mix up yer words. But, it’s fine! Everythin’ll be fine if we just explain that it was just a mistake n’ ya didn’t mean to press it!”

 

The voice remained silent, unaffected by Jesse’s begging. Instead a panel embedded into the wall slid open. Ushering a chilling breeze littered with snowflakes.

 

“...what?” Jesse stared at the opened space with wide eyes, the reflective snow blinding. “Why are you opening the door!?” He shifted away, as if the door itself was another trap. “You said, we couldn’t leave until one of us is dead!”

 

“Agent Cannon’s breathing stopped approximately one minute and twenty seven seconds ago.” The voice explained slowly. 

 

“...No..” Warm cinnamon orbs whirled back to Moira’s still form, instantly noting how still she was. The glassy look of her half lidded eyes. “No! No no no!” He Jerked, straining against the chains. “Let me go! She’s not breathing-Get me outta these things!”

 

“....But Agent Cannon is not truly dead yet, Agent McCree.” They sounded almost exasperated addressing his outburst.“As such, it will takes an average of four to six minutes for brain cells to begin to die without proper blood flow. Ten minutes will result in a those cells ceasing their function completely.” 

 

“I’M NOT GONNA SIT HERE N’ WATCH HER DIE!” The cowboy roared, chains thrashing back and forth in his panic. “You’re gonna unlock these chains-”

 

“-And why would I would do such a thing, Agent McCree?” The voice asked, thinly veiled amusement bleeding through.

 

“That’s what you said! You said you would let the other one go!”

 

Laughter, full blown laughter burst from the speakers, loud and unhinged that shocked Jesse into silence long enough for them to continue. “I said you would be free to leave, yes. But, never that I would be the one to set you free. That you will have to do yourself.” 

 

A chill settled into the cowboy’s gut that wasn’t caused by the frigid air. The speaker’s cut off, and he deep down Jesse knew it would be the last time he heard that voice. Slowly, he sank back, onto his ass and just stared. Mind racing as he tried to find some way out of the chains. Lost.

 

Moira didn’t move, remained as still as if she were carved from ice herself. If it weren’t for her eyes, one might have mistaken her stillness for sleeping. For every second that passed, her chances of survival withered. The chains still held firm when Jesse leaned back against the cold wall, defeated as the sobs began to pour out one after another.   
He had failed.


	3. It's Just a Little Curse:  Jesse McCree X Moira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's got a little secret...ok, its kind of a big secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some more stuff between Jesse and Moira. Some werewolf sin this time, no angst. Got a little carried away though, my stuff isn't usually this long.

The jingling of metal echoed throughout hallway, uncharacteristically loud at such a late hour. The culprit continued their pacing, muttering to themselves under their breath. After every turn they shot a longing glance towards a particular door. One which remained closed.

 

“Dammit, Jesse!” Snarling he tears the hat from his head before forcing a gloved hand through the cinnamon colored locks on his head. “Git yer ass in there n’ just say it!” 

 

The door remains closed and just as imposing as ever.

 

A tremor traveled down the cowboy’s spine, followed by the familiar sensation of tightening skin, and aching bones. A growl rumbling deep in his throat. He didn’t have much time. If he was going to do this, it would have to be done now. Otherwise this little...Meeting or talk would have to be postponed for another cycle.

 

A second growl rises up from behind him, forcing the hairs on his neck to stand at attention. The overbearing presence of the predator made his palms sweat. It’s voice is deep when it speaks, a growl accompanied by a raspy exhale. He can practically hear the twisted smile in its voice, “ And what will you do if she chases you away?” It asks, leaning over Jesse’s shoulder. “What if your precious Moira is afraid of the monster that you really are? Afraid of the curse that you willingly submitted to all those years ago?”

 

It’s those words that make him hesitate, hand on the doorknob. The beast grins wider behind him, fangs large and terrible as it leans closer.

 

“And what will she think of all the things you’ve done while under my control?”

 

He grits his teeth, “Keep yer damn mouth shut.” The apparition disappears with a shake of his head, but the thoughts remain as he inserts the key into the lock and turns. 

 

The taste of copper fills his mouth.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

The sun has long since set by the time Moira finally exits the shop, backpack full to bursting with snacks and other unneeded items. The streets of Nepal are covered in a fresh coating of snow that sparkles under the glare of the street lights. The chill hanging in the air enough to force everyone inside for the night. Even though the streets were devoid of people Moira couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 

 

Snow. Moira LOVED snow, and the cold, and the biting winds that just seemed to tear through you no matter the number of layers you were wearing. A winter baby through and through, the spear wielder barely bat an eye as a particularly icy gust of wind whipped through the plaza. The oversized hood flapping in the breeze. One hand readjusts the backpack slung over her shoulder while the other slipped inside the puffy coat. Her fingers brush against the hidden pocket and the rigid contents inside. 

 

The gun wasn’t her idea. Though her aim was acceptable, guns just weren’t for her. Her magnetic blasters were area weapons, and didn’t require perfect aim. Moira preferred to get in close to her opponents. Take them down with her spear, or her hands. It was Evangeline that had given Moira her very first blade. A small unassuming thing that could easily be concealed within a sleeve or in the waistband of her pants. But, she had loved the thing, and it had served her well. From then on, she had always carried a knife or two with her wherever she went. Her favorites for the moment were a trio of mantis karambit knives, each a different size. The smaller two had shining silver blades, while the largest was black as ink.

 

But, Jesse had insisted she keep up with her marksmanship, often dragging her to the practice range with him, and forcing her to at least fire off a few rounds before relenting and allowing her to escape. At first, she’d resisted vehemently. Insisting that her training was enough. But, the cowboy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was worried, and he wasn’t above pouting to get his way. Let’s just say Moira’s aim had improved significantly over the past month.

 

And then one morning Jesse had strolled into the practice range with a pure black case and one of the biggest smiles Moira had seen in a long while. All teeth and barely contained excitement as the cowboy practically begged her to open the thing.

 

Happy cowboy? Moira smirked to herself as the weapon bumped against her side with every step. Took the thing with me, just like you’ve been begging me to. 

 

The wind began to pick up, sending little flurries of snow swirling about the plaza just as music began blasting from the device in her pocket. The song wasn’t familiar to her, something about a man named Joe with a cotton eye, but there were only a handful of people who knew the passcode to her comm device. And fewer still who would actually go so far as to change her ringtone. 

 

A glance at the screen is all it takes to confirm her suspicions. Smile widening as she placed the device next to her ear, “Did you change my-”

 

“-Darlin’ where are ya?” His words came out in a rush, short and laced with an emotion Moira hadn’t been prepared for. He almost sounded...nervous.

 

“I went into town,” she mumbled slowly, brows coming together. “Why? Did something happen?”

 

“What? N-No everythin’s fine. I just..” Jesse sighed right into the receiver, the sound strangely loud in the quiet street. “You done? Need to talk to ya bout somethin...”

 

She nods and switches the com to her other ear as the stone steps that mark the town’s entrance come into view. “Yeah, no problem. I’m on my way back-”

 

‘Right now.’ Those were the words that died on the female’s lips. The low rumbling sound that floated through the area tearing her attention away from the comm and the anxious cowboy on the other end. Sending a wave of goosebumps down her arms. Her free hand twitches, almost reaching for her weapons out of habit.

 

“Still with me, Pumpkin?”

 

“Y-Yeah…” She looks around, a frown slowly overtaking her face. But, nothing seems to be out of order. “Thought I heard something…”

 

Jesse is only silent for a second, barely enough time for Moira to blink, before his voice is filling her ear once more. Deadly serious, a tone he reserved for the most dire situations. “Come on back to base, Darlin’. Don’t stop fer nuthin’, ya hear?”

 

Moira opened her mouth to argue, frown deepening as she began the long trek up the stone stairs, “Ok, Ok. It was probably just the wind anyw-” The low rumbling shocks her into silence once again. Louder and somewhat menacing this time. The sound reminds her of some sort of animal. 

 

Jesse’s cursing is loud and clear over the comm along with the frenzied rustling of fabric. “...That ain’t the wind, sweetheart.” 

 

“It’s probably just a stray dog.” She’s trying to convince the both of them, and it shows in the way her voice wavers. 

 

But, Jesse isn’t listening to her lackluster excuse. “I’m comin’ ta get ya.”

 

“I can handle a few stray dogs, Jesse.” She mumbles back, trying to nurse the slight bruise to her ego. Did he really think she needed protection from a dog? Seriously?

 

It’s not a rumble that causes Moira to stop for the third time, but a snarl. A vicious booming sound that forces a tiny gasp of surprise from the spear wielder. Leaving her frozen on the stone steps. 

 

“That ain’t no dog, hun. Least not the kind yer thinkin’ of.” His voice crackles over the comm, suddenly distorted. “Get yer ass outta there, now!”

 

Moira doesn’t question the order, she simply obeyed. Ditching her yellow backpack on the cold steps, and breaking out into a full run. Phone clutched tight in her right hand as she bolted up the steps two at a time. A chorus of growl and snarls rose up from all around the deserted town. Bright luminescent orbs sprouting up in the shadows of dark alleys and behind houses.

 

Jesse’s previous words echoed loudly in the back of her mind. 

 

That definitely ain’t no dog.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Moira’s room is dark, save for the single light blinking lazily on the wall mounted control panel. Jesse hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights after realizing she wasn’t there.

 

“Moira!?” The hiss of wind as she ran along with the growls, ever increasing in their ferocity are the only sounds coming through the speaker. She can’t hear him.

 

Thick fingers clutched the comm tight, black tinted claws digging into the soft flesh of his palm. His eyes shoot to the window as a growl of his own rumbles deep in his throat. In one swift motion he flips the thing open, tossing the screen to the floor without so much as a second glance.

 

“Hang on, sweetpea.”

 

The first thing to catch his gaze is the moon, low and swollen against the starry sky. It feels as if it’s mocking him, knows full well how much he’d love to just hide away in his and let the night pass. But, he can’t. The stretching of his skin and muscles rips a groan from the cowboy, and he clutches the windowsill with a clawed hand to maintain his balance. Jaw stretching, bones cracking as the grow and shift.

 

As the wind carries the frenzied howls up to the mountain’s peak, the cowboy throws his head back and answers with one of his own. Jesse might not like the power he’s been given most of the time, but he knows he’s going to need every ounce of his monstrous strength this night. 

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

 

The wet squelch of the snow beneath Moira’s boots is the only sound that persists over her heavy breathing. All other noise drowned out by the thundering footfalls behind her. 

 

Moira knows how to run. She knows how to manage her breathing and how to pace herself. She knows she's good at it. But, these thing are better, faster.

 

And they're gaining on her faster than she can come up with a plan.

 

Dammit! How am I gonna shake these things!? Shoving her left hand into her jacket Moira freed one of her silver knives from its clasp, brandishing the blade as she skids around a corner and into an alleyway. What ARE they??

 

Their claws scrape against the stones and brick walls, ticy sparks flashing in the darkness as they draw ever closer. The end of the alley is almost within reach, and Moira pumps her legs hard. 

 

Almost there! 

 

A burst of hot rancid air brushes the back of her neck, choking her, burning her eyes. She bursts out of the alley at full speed, blinking away tears as she twists her body. The blade glints as it catches the black mass just beneath one of its burning orbs. It shrieks, reeling back as the acrid scent of blood fills the air. Moira leaps backward, putting some space between herself and the angry creature. Chest heaving and blade held high.

 

The thing lumpers out of the alley and into the moon’s cold light. And Moira can’t believe what she’s seeing, even as it straightens up to its full height and snarls in her face. Fur abound, massive claws, and fangs glistening with saliva.

 

It’s a werewolf.

 

Her hand twitches as the beast rubs at the cut beneath it’s eye with one massive paw. Glancing at the smear of dark liquid on its fur with a snarl. A handful of equally bright eyes are slinking closer through the alley. A single bead of sweat slides down her back at the sight. 

 

Just how many of them are there?!

 

The werewolf snarls as it flexes its claws, coal colored fur shining in the moonlight. Moira is quick to shove her phone into her pocket before brandishing her other small knife. Maybe...just maybe, if she played this right she’d actually be able to make it out of here alive. Maybe. 

 

The werewolf’s muzzle twists, scrunching up into a feral sneer as it brandished it’s claws. Those bloodthirsty eyes locked onto Moira before it released a howl so powerful it reverberated within her chest.

 

And then it charged, gaping mouth rimmed with jagged fangs.

 

Moira grit her teeth as she lunges to the left, lashing out with her knife once more. This time the blade bites into its shoulder, and the beast shrieks in rage. Lashing out with viciously curved claws. One caught her on the cheek, tearing through the skin as though it were nothing more than a wet tissue. She stumbled, face burning with pain as the wolf advanced on her, eyes gleaming in the streets scattered light. It leapt at her aching to bury its talons in her flesh. For some reason the distant sound of metal hitting concrete rings in her ears.

 

And suddenly it was gone, knocked out of the air by a brown blur. They collide with the wall with enough force to shatter the bricks. A flurry of teeth and claws. The brown wolf is larger and easily overpowers the darker one, slamming its back against the crumbling bricks before it ducks its head and uses that massive jaw to tear out the other wolf’s throat. 

 

The poor beast thrashes as it slides to the ground, choking on its own blood. Trembling paws trying and failing to stem the flow of blood. Moira almost feels bad for the thing. But, that sympathy disappears as soon as the tawny colored wolf spits the missing portion of throat flesh onto the ground with a huff. Slowly, it glances at her over one massive shoulder. Blood cakes the thin fur around its muzzle, thick crimson globs dribbling onto the wet stone. Bright honey colored orbs locking with her own cinnamon ones for just a moment before myriad of other wolves began pouring into the small street, obscuring the stones with paws of every shape, size, and color.

 

Ok…Ever so slowly the female slid backwards until the frigid sting of brick met her back. Great, the whole pack is here…..Now what? She glanced over at the tawny wolf to her right, fur bristling as it eyed the opposing wolves. 

 

...And what’s the deal with that one?

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

 

Relief is the first emotion to pierce the red haze of anger in Jesse’s mind when he finally lays eyes on Moira. She’s alive and relatively unharmed, knives at the ready. Pride is the second. For her to survive and even inflict a few wounds upon one of them was almost unheard of for a normal person. Let alone survive with as few scratches as she had. 

 

The beast snickers as he looks Moira over, “She is afraid. I can smell her fear from here.” It’s hard to miss the glee in its monstrous voice.

 

Jesse growls, the taste of copper still strong in his mouth. She ain’t never seen a werewolf before, n’ now they’ve got her surrounded! He turns away from Moira and focuses instead on the other wolves. Makes perfect sense fer her to be scared! 

 

There had to be at least twenty or so. 

 

Been a while since I’ve seen so many in one place. He thinks to himself, the beast trembling with excitement as the wolves lunge at him. 

 

They come at him from all sides, claws raking his flesh, jaws snapping. Jesse gives as good as he gets, ripping flesh and tearing limbs. But, even he can’t ignore the fact that he’s outnumbered. Every bite, every cut that they inflict on him draws Jesse one step closer to defeat. They’ve surrounded him, using their numbers to back him into a corner.

 

But, he doesn’t care. They’ll have to kill him seven times over before he ever let them lay a hand or claw on his Moira again.

 

“You’re awfully attached to someone who doesn’t know the real you.” The beast taunts, relishing in the cries that are ripped from the enemy wolves as Jesse sinks his fangs into a dust colored wolf’s shoulder. He’s so focused on ripping the beast’s arm off that he doesn’t notice the two sneaking up behind him. 

 

Until a gunshot rings out loud and clear, the smell of burnt flesh assaulting his nose. Moira’s steely gaze is aimed right at him for a moment, energy pistol at the ready. Something heavy drops to the ground a second later, she fires again, and chaos ensues.

 

Angry howls fill the air as the pack attacks as one, disregarding him in favor of Moira, and she wastes no time dropping a few more of them. But, it's not enough, she can’t take them all out. He shouts for her to run, but all Jesse can manage in his current form is a frenzied bark. Fear lances through his gut, he has to do something or else she’ll be torn to pieces! If only he could use a stun grenade or peacekeeper.

 

The name of his trusty revolver gives the cowboy an idea. One that the beast approves of greatly, if it's cruel fanged smile is anything to go by. He jumps back, eyes wide as he gives himself over to the beast inside. 

 

Time slows to a crawl as the beast gets to work, planning, calculating every movement the wolves could make in an instant. It wouldn’t miss.

 

The beast attacks, leaping from wolf to wolf in a flurry of claws and red tinted fangs. Rending both flesh and bone in it's fury. The corpses fall to the stone like puppets whose strings have been cut. One by one they shift back returning to their human forms in death. And the beast throws his head back as it howls out his victory, their blood staining his fur. It had always enjoyed the rush that came with killing especially when he’d first been bitten during his initiation into Deadlock. It’s lust for blood had scared him.

 

But, now, as the beast relinquishes control of his body, and the red haze fades from his vision, Jesse can’t help but be thankful for it’s presence.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Her hands are shaking. It’s the first thing that Moira realizes once the wolves stop moving. But, it's not from fear, even though it's certainly playing its part. It’s the adrenaline that has her trembling like a rabbit under a hungry hawk’s gaze. Head in her hands, she lowers herself into a squat, trying to steady her breathing, “Dammit...what the hell is this?”

 

She’s so focused on calming her nerves that the soft pad of footsteps don’t register in her mind until they’re practically on top of her. The last remaining werewolf is looming over her, bright honey orbs watching her so intently that Moira would probably feel a bit self conscious if she wasn’t so afraid of having her head bitten off. It lets out a little huff of air, hot against Moira’s face as it bend down. Close enough for her to see the golden flecks in it's eyes.

 

And when it opens that massive jaw she gets an eyefull of those teeth, Moira knows it's too late. There’s no way for her to get away in-

 

-The wet slap of it's tongue against her face-her cheek to be exact, leaves her frozen in shock.

 

It...It’s LICKING ME!

 

The appendage is warm and rough against the torn skin of her face. The force knocking her back into one of the many small alleyways that branched off from the main street. She yelped, hands flailing in an attempt to catch herself as she tumbled onto the snow covered ground. A clang rings out as pain erupts in her hand and she drops the pistol with a sharp cry.

 

The wolf lingered at the mouth of the alley, ears drooping and high pitched whines completely erasing any sense of fear she’d felt in the things presence. It sounded like a kicked puppy than a bloodthirsty monster. Even though she’d seen first hand what it could do. Frowning, Moira turned to see what she’d hit her hand on, melted snow already seeping through her pants as she cradled the bruised limb to her chest.

 

There, next to her energy pistol lay a metal hand, and not just any hand. The white painted skull, the ridges near the elbow, even down to the blue glow. There was no way on earth that Moira could ever forget that arm. 

 

But, what was it doing here?

 

Her eyes followed the alley to a trail of freshly disturbed snow, a feeling of unease twisting in her gut. A shirt lay crumpled on the ground, followed by a single boot discarded in a puddle. Then a pair of very familiar pants thrown haphazardly across a trash can...and the hat. That stupid hat lying face up in the snow is what finally kicks Moira’s brain into overdrive. Hundreds of horrible scenarios popping up into her head one after the other.

 

What are his clothes doing here? Why isn’t he wearing them!? WHERE IS HE!? He was supposed to come get me-why isn’t he here!?

 

She doesn’t even realize her hands are shaking again until she tries to pick up the soggy flannel shirt with trembling fingers. Vision going blurry with the threat of unshed tears.

 

No..no no..There-There’s no body! And...no blood? A glance is all it takes to confirm her statement. While the snow was wet and freshly disturbed, there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere near the pile clothes. Nor was there a body. Moira sniffed, blinking rapidly to force away the tears, “If...there’s no body, than Jesse’s still alive...He...could be fine.” 

 

Yet another whine, this one closer, insistent. The sound is enough to shake Moira out of her thoughts at least temporarily. She turns, a question on the tip of her tongue,only to be silenced by yet another swipe of that oversized tongue.

 

“H-Hey!” her hands fly to the wolf’s chest, digging into the fur, pushing against the massive wall of flesh.. The fur feels strangely familiar between her fingers, almost like hair. But, the wolf ignores her attempts to get it to move, continuing its attack on her face and neck until the female is reduced to a giggling mess. “Stop!...Stop, please!” Each swipe of that tongue pulls yet another squeal from her until she’s breathless and gasping. 

 

When it finally pulled away, satisfied that Moira had suffered enough, the werewolf huffed at her. Seemingly annoyed with her attitude regardless of the softness shining in it's gaze. Strangely affectionate for something that had just ripped a handful of it's own kind to pieces less than fifteen minutes ago.

 

Moira tried her best to fight the smile threatening to overtake her face, but it was a  
losing battle. Brows furrowing as she stared up at the massive wall of muscle and fur, “You remind me of someone, you know that?” Her gaze drifted from the wolf’s warm honey eyes to the shaggy mess of fur around it's head before falling to what remained of its left arm. 

 

Her words seem to spur the beast into action, it hauls itself back up to it's full height before trudging over to the discarded clothes nearby. In one smooth motion the lonely hat is snatched up and dropped onto it's own head, dangling off a single pricked ear. Dark lips pulled back into a toothy smile. Slowly, almost comically so, it sweeps the hat from it's head and presses it against the furry wall that is it's chest, head bowed.

 

The motion is too familiar, the pose even more, eerily so. But, it isn’t until the wolf tilts its head ever so slightly to the right and winks, that the light bulb flares to life. 

 

And the smile fael from Moira’s face in a flash.

 

There was no way...it couldn’t be….

 

“Jesse!?”

 

That stupid smile of his was the same, even with teeth three times his normal size.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

 

And that….was the last thing Moira remembered before tossing her backpack into a corner, stuffed to the brim with supplies and Jesse’s discarded clothes. Wait….My backpack? She stared at the thing, confusion seeping into her mind. Did I go back and get it? Try as she might she just couldn’t remember, her thoughts were a jumbled mess of images. Seating herself on the edge of her bed, Moira turned to unlace her boots and froze.

Her hands were shaking again…

 

“....Dammit.” She curled her trembling fingers into fists, squeezing them tight until the bite of her nails was too much to bear. “Get yourself together! ...It’s over.” Why was this bothering her so much? She’d faced worse! Had her life threatened more times than she could count, so why…?

 

There was a thump to her left, head jerking up in time to see a familiar tawny colored wolf pull itself through her still open window. The screen lay forgotten on the floor. Moira’s eyes widened at the sight, even though she’d accepted that this was what he was, seeing Jesse in that form was certainly going to take some getting used to.

 

Suddenly, she frowned as the wolf uncurled to his full height, nearly seven feet of muscle and fur, tail thrashing back and forth.

 

“Jesse?” Those pricked ears twitched before that massive head whipped around to face her. Moira blinked, “You didn’t go back to your room?” She had assumed that he would’ve wanted to sleep, to recover from that last fight.

 

Apparently she’d been wrong.

 

He crossed the length of the room in two massive strides, right hand reaching out to brush the back of his clawed hand against her cheek. Pressing their foreheads together with a grunt. The low rumbling in his chest growing louder as he began to nuzzle the female, rubbing his face and neck all over her-scenting her.

 

She was his. Curse or no curse, Moira was his, and he’d almost lost her. Jesse whined, shoving his head against her stomach, nose buried between her thighs and-

 

-oh….

 

Jesse froze, honey orbs fluttering closed as he breathed deep, hand curling around Moira’s waist, pulling her closer.

 

Ooooooh……

 

Moira shuddered, a small gaps falling from her lips as Jesse pressed his muzzle against her crotch. “Y-You’re just as horny as a wolf as you are a man, I see.” The corner of her lips twitched into a smile, “I’d call you a dog, but…” Her smile widened as he let out an annoyed huff, ears flattening against his skull. She didn’t let him dwell on it though, shifting so she could wrap her legs around that massive furred head of his. Hands curling around those ears, tugging until Jesse raised his head. 

 

“Do...Do you want to?” His gaze demolished any and all confidence Moira had managed to pull together. She felt like some sort of weirdo for what she was about to ask. “..I mean...I’ve never…” Finally, nerves got the best of her, and she bit her lip, letting the unasked question hang in the air.

 

That massive tail of his whipped back and forth, eyes lighting up as her half assed question finally clicked. Of course! Of course Jesse wanted to have her. He could barely count all the sleepless nights he’d spent tortured by thoughts of Moira spread out, and bare beneath him. How many times he’d been unable to look her in the eye after all those cold showers. But this curse of his had always held him back. Hanging over his head like a guillotine, ready to destroy any chance he’d had at being accepted at a moment's notice. 

 

Or at least, that’s what he’d come to believe.

 

So, Moira’s acceptance of him, her willingness to take him as he was, left Jesse weak in the knees. If only he could actually talk in his were form. Jesse had her on her back in a flash, pressing her into the mattress with his bulk. Slathering her neck with sloppy tongue-kisses. Hand tugging at relentlessly at her pants, groan catching in his throat.

 

Moira shifted, raising her hips so he could pull of her pants, kicking off her shoes a second later. “Is that a yes?”

 

He didn’t reply, couldn’t even though he wanted to. So, Jesse would have to show her. Sliding down, the he settled between her legs once more. Brushing her clothed mound with his tongue, the sweet taste of her sex coaxing another whine out of him. His grip on Moira’s waist tightened as she shifted, a small groan falling from her lips as his fervor increased. He’d been dreaming about this for so long, there was no way in hell Jesse was going to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. 

 

Her panties fell away with a flick of Jesse’s claws, the fabric tossed over his shoulder without a second thought. The room was dark, but he could see her glistening sex bright as day. The scent of her arousal making his mouth water. 

 

Moira squirmed above him, biting her lip. “Can you not...stare at me?” Face growing hot when he refused to look away. Did he really have to stare like that? I bet it's not the first time he’s-

 

She gasped as that tongue of his parted her folds, all thought fizzling out like a dying candle. Nose brushing her clit, the first thrust made her jolt, the second left her trembling, and she was nothing more than a gasping puddle by the third. Jesse knew just how much pressure to apply to her clit, zeroing in on a bundle of nerves that stole what little breath she could force into her lungs. And the the sounds he made, oh god, those noises alone were enough to make her sex quiver. He sounded like he was enjoying eating her out as much as she was.

 

The muscles in her stomach spasmed, tightening, and her hands dug into the sheets clutching them in a white knuckled grip. Chest heaving as the assault on her pussy sent waves of pleasure rolling through her entire body. “J-Jesse! I think-” -A moan cut her off, hips bucking against the cool brush of his nose. The coil in her gut growing tighter by the second.

 

The cowboy was quick to answer her, surging to his feet and folding Moira in half with a single push of his massive hand, towering over her as he forced his tongue even deeper. Devouring the evidence of her arousal as if it would be the last time he’d ever taste it.

 

She came with a cry nerves sizzling as her back arched, fists clenching, thighs crushing his head. Trying to fuck his face and pull away from that insistent tongue all at once. But, Jesse’s grip on her waist keeps her still until he’s had his fill of her juices.

 

Her legs slip from his shoulder and land on the bed with a soft thump, boneless, useless in the aftermath of her orgasm. The wolf merely hums with approval and licks the remnants from his lips. It takes her a moment to catch her breath, but even then Moira doesn’t try to move. Whimpers when he maneuvers her shirt and tank over her head. Her attention is on the appendage hanging thick and heavy between Jesse’s thighs. Flushed red with blood a string precum dribbling from the head.

 

The sight of him makes her ache. Doesn’t even know if he’ll fit, just knows she needs him inside of her. Any other time, the whine she produced would’ve driven Moira from the room in shame. But, at this point she doesn’t care, reaches for his cock and curls her fingers it. Dragging her hand up to the tip to press her thumb against the slit. Smearing precum across the head.

 

Jesse’s hand nearly engulfs her whole forearm when he grabs her, lips curled back into a silent snarl. His face says it all, ‘No’. He pins her arm to the bed without a second thought, pushing her thighs apart with his own. Kissing her entrance with slow languid strokes. He’s watching her, eyes trained on her face, searching for any sign of hesitation. 

 

But, the time for second guessing has long since passed. 

 

It takes a minute, but Moira is finally able to regain control of her legs, maneuvering the weak limbs up and around Jesse’s waist with a groan. “Are you just gonna rub me all night, cowboy?” He pauses, staring down at her, taking in the sight of her disheveled hair and sweat soaked skin. Chest heaving with desire and anticipation. 

 

He ducks his head before pressing inside.

 

The initial stretch burns, but the heat from his cock more than makes up for it. Moira’s hands fly to his head, latching onto those pointed ears. He works her open slowly, agonizingly so, delving in just a few short inches before withdrawing. Lips pulled back into a full snarl and eyes scrunched up tight. Breath coming in short gasps. The feeling on her heat encasing him, the muscles shifting, quivering around his dick.

 

Jesse nearly cums when she says his name.

 

“Jesseee!” Lifting her hips, Moira tries to take more of him, whimpers when he pulls away. Tugs helplessly at his ears when he refuses to indulge her. “Please…” Her legs tremble when she tries to pull herself up, muscles still weak.

 

So, it a welcome surprise when he leans back on his haunches, dragging her with him. The sudden shift along with gravity forcing her to take the last few inches all at once, and all she can do is shudder. The stretch is wonderful, filling her up in just the right way.

 

Jesse presses his face into the crook of her neck, licking almost apologetically at he sweat soaked skin, trying to distract her and ease any pain she might be feeling. His first thrusts are shallow, soft, barely have him moving within her. She still needs to adjust to his size after all.

 

“Don’t get lazy on me now, cowboy.” Her breathless teasing catches him by surprise. She doesn’t wait for him, instead using her grip on him to pull herself up before dropping back down on his cock. Walls cradling him, squeezing him as though they didn’t want to see him go.

 

Claws curling around Moira’s waist he bucked his hips, matching her thrusts with his own, slowly increasing the power behind each thrust until he was all out pounding into her from below. The creaking of the bed loud over the sound of low growls and hushed moans. 

 

Moira whimpered nails digging into the soft flesh of Jesse’s ears. That feeling was back, the tightening coil in her core, twisting tighter and tighter. Something brushed against her entrance, nudging her core, and sending lightning jolting through her body. It was big, and oh so wide. Stretching her further and further with every thrust. “J-Jesse?”

 

The werewolf grunted, head thrown back, jaw slack and tongue lolling out of his mouth. His thrust were sloppy and uneven, closer to the frenzied rutting of an animal than a man, or any combination of the two. Wild and primal. 

 

Moira’s second orgasm took her by surprise, blindsiding her with it's ferocity. Toes curling into the soft fur of his back as her walls convulsed around him, drawing Jesse even further in, squeezing him. 

 

That was his undoing. 

 

His hips stuttered, claws digging into the supple flesh of her backside as he forced her down over the swell of his knot, locking them together. Her cry of surprise only countered by the growl he released as his fangs piercing the skin on her shoulder. Thick ropes of cum painting her insides, warming her, marking her as his from the inside. 

 

They tumbled forward, landing on the bed with an ‘oomph’. Jesse barely managing to keep from crushing her with his weight. Hips still twitching as another wave of his release rolled through him, coaxing soft little moans from Moira’s lips as he filled her up even more.

 

And then he started to shrink, so slowly at first that it wasn't particularly noticeable until claws retracted into fingernails, and the scrape of fangs against her skin disappeared, replaced with blunted human ones. And that voice, thick and deep from a mixture of arousal and exhaustion. “M’ sorry sweetheart, did I hurt ya? Shit, M’ sorry! Didn't mean it I swear-”

 

-He shuddered, jaw clenching as a pair of hands latched onto his ass, nails biting into the flesh, pressing the two of them even closer together . “....I’m fine, stop talking.”

“But, I bit ya!”

 

Moira shifted, lazily draping her arms over the man's broad shoulders, eyes drooping. “Do you want me to bite you back? Make it even? Mark you up like you marked me?” She'd meant it as a joke, something to distract him. But, the whimper that fell from Jesse’s mouth gave her an inkling that he thought she was serious.

 

He pressed a kiss to the valley between her breasts, beard scratching her skin and practically purred, “Darlin’ ya can mark me up any way ya want.”


	4. Fly Away Sparrow: Genji Shimada/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its you or him, and you're always going to choose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More attempted angst, this time with everyone's beloved cyborg ninja.

The vast expanse of grey sky before you eyes is only topped by the tiny pinpricks of cold on your face. Snowflakes melting on your skin, clinging to your eyelashes. Normally, such a sight wouldn’t have bothered you. Nor would you normally end up dangling off the edge of a cliff, hundreds of feet above certain death. Held up by Genji’s force of will alone, clutching your right hand in his left. His left pinned to the frigid ground by none other than his very own dragonblade. Pierced straight through, and leaving a mixture of blood and a green luminescent liquid. The green standing out against the silver plating covering his body.

 

Pain licked at your side, and you dropped your gaze to the wound you’d received earlier while trying to escape. With just your left hand to stifle the flow, the crimson liquid was seeping out faster than you’d like. Staining your uniform with a rapidly growing dark blotch. Dribbling down your boots before dropping off into the foggy void below that you just knew would end up swallowing you as well.

 

It had been your own fault, you simply weren’t fast enough. After retrieving what could be valuable data on Talon’s next targets, everything seemed it was going well. Until the alarm started shrieking and suddenly there were more Talon soldiers on your tail then you’d ever seen in one place. 

 

“Don’t they tell you to not look down in these situations?”

 

The sound of Genji’s voice pulls your attention away from the stain currently devouring your uniform. His faceplate is still attached, so while you can’t actually see his face, you can hear the mirth in his voice. But, it's more for his own sake then yours. Genji is similar to McCree in that aspect, both of them use humor to mask their pain. Hiding behind jokes and pranks instead of saying how they truly felt. But, even with his visor on it wasn't hard to read the cyborg’s emotions. Especially after becoming familiar with him-with his body. 

 

It wasn’t hard to see how worried he was. How long had the two of you been stuck like this anyway?

 

Your mouth twitches into the barest hint of a smile, “And where would you have me look? At you?”

 

His laugh is short and pained, “I know I’m more attractive than a few rocks”

 

You rolled your eyes at that. 

 

It was in the way he tilted his head, how his shoulders stiffened. And you were sure that his fingers would be twitching incessantly if his hands were free. But, they weren't. 

 

Your beloved ninja cyborg was also down a leg. He wasn’t completely down for the count, but he could only move so fast with one leg. Cyborg or not. And carrying him was out of the question with you injured as you were. Hell, even if you somehow managed to avoid falling to your death, all you had to look forward to would be dying from blood loss. 

 

You bit your lip, I Can’t really see any way the two of us can get out of this...

 

And those Talon soldiers would be ecstatic if they managed to get their hands on either one of you, let alone both. A shudder ran down your spine at the mere thought of being captured by them. 

 

If the stories you’d heard about that group were even close to being true...you didn’t want to know what they would do to you.

 

“Dammit!” 

 

You jerked at the sudden outburst, raising your eyes to Genji once more, eyebrows raised, “What is it?” The feeling of his metallic fingers tightening around your arm didn’t exactly put you at ease. “Genji?”

 

“I...My comm might be broken. I haven’t been able to get through to anyone.” You can practically feel his eyes on you through his mask when you look to your right. “I can’t tell if they know about our…. Situation.”

 

Somehow, you resist the urge to snort. Not that you were surprised, especially after dropping your own comm down the very cliff that you were hanging over.

 

Situation...yeah, that’s a nice way to put it.

 

The pain in your side has started to ebb, replaced with a chilling numbness that’s setting off alarm bells in your mind. Things were progressing too fast. You should’ve had more time than this-

 

A single gunshot rang out, shattering the relative silence that had settled down around you. Whole body going rigid, you whip your head around towards the noise, “Is that-”

 

“-They’re getting closer.”Genji follows suit, uttering yet another curse under his breath as he glances toward the forest to his left. “We don’t have much time left.”

 

You can hear a mixture of voices, faint shouting along with scattered gunfire. Judging by the sounds, there were quite a few of them on their way. Sweat sides down the back of your neck, stomach churning as your mind races to form some sort of plan.

 

You meet the younger Shimada’s eyes through his visor, heart caught in your throat.

 

“We’ll be fine.” He says quickly, trying to erase what he believes is panic in your eyes. “They can’t take both of us.”

 

The sight of that green tinted armor, covered in a thin sheet of half melted snow gives birth to a fresh wave of icy realization. It almost feel like it's choking you even though it doesn’t steal your breath. But, calms it, makes it easier to control. Allows you to finally commit to the truth you’ve been skirting around this whole time.

 

You will not be returning from this mission. 

 

Genji was a cyborg-a ninja! Whose abilities had been paramount to completing many a mission. He still had to close the rift that had developed between Hanzo and himself. Still had so many things to live for….unlike you.

 

You were just a run of the mill soldier, with basic skills and abilities. Nothing special. Honestly, you still questioned how you’d managed to worm your way into the ragtag group of people that made up Overwatch. Especially after the fall. You were practically surrounded by living breathing super heroes. What good could you do that they couldn’t?

 

Not a damn thing.

 

You sighed, head hanging and forehead brushing against the stone, “Genji...I-”

 

“-I’m going to pull you up again.” He’s pulling even before the words are out of his mouth. Putting pressure on his right hand, still skewered with his blade. Little spurts of steam rise from his shoulders-from the pain. Inch by inch you rise up, until you’re able to grab at the cliffside with your bloodied left hand. 

 

The soil is cold and brittle beneath your gloves, crumbling under the most minute amount of pressure. You grimace. Of course...That’s how we got into this mess in the first place.

 

All at once the ninja’s strength gives out, and you fall again. Barely stifling a yelp as you slam against the cold cliffside. Being jostled like that has your wound screaming and leaves your vision wavering. Genji groans above you, a couple of warm droplets land on your shoulder. It smells of oil, and you don’t even have to look know that it’s his. That’s he’s only aggravated the wound and made it worse.

 

“Shit, are you alright!? Hold on...” He tries to lift you again, arm shaking, but doesn’t even make it half as far as the last time. “G-Give me a minute...i just need to rest for a minute.” He lays his head flat on the ground, chest heaving. “We’ll try again in a minute.” 

 

The sight of him makes you heart ache, you’ve never seen him so worn out and defeated. And the worst part is you know, you just know he’s not going to just give up. Genji may not look it, but he’s a stubborn man. He’ll keep trying to pull you up until he succeeds, or his entire arm simply falls off. There is no inbetween in his mind.

 

The steady stream of shouting and gunfire continues grows ever louder, closer. Soon they’ll be on top of you, and it will be too late.

 

Tears blur your vision, but you force them away, blinking rapidly as you force for face into a more neutral expression. This has to be done. I..have no other choice. Both of your comms are broken, there’s no way to know if help is on the way, or if they even know you need help. Both of you have sustained serious injuries, and to top it all off Talon is practically breathing down your neck.

 

You swallow against the lump in your throat, it's presence threatening to choke you. Voice small and hoarse when you finally manage to mumble out his name. That visor is pointed in your direction once more, and already you can feel your resolve crumbling. You’re going to destroy him, but in doing so, you’d be saving his life.

 

“Genji...you have to let me go…”

 

It only takes a second for your words to sink in, the rigid line of his shoulders clueing you into his response before he’s even opened his mouth. “N-No! I will not!” His voice is high, panicked. Grip tightening on your arm, almost bruising in it's intensity. “Why would you say something-”

 

“-Genji, listen to me!” You try your best to soothe him, to placate him with your voice, but it's no use. He shakes his head and tries to pull you up again, nearly screams in frustration when his strength gives out once more. “Genji, please! Stop!”

 

You can almost make out what the soldiers are shouting now. They must be near the edge of the woods. Any further and they would have a clear view of both of you.

 

“Genji, sweetie, listen to me.” You ignore the dejected way he shakes his head and keep talking. “They’re going to be on top of us any second, and neither one of us is in any condition to move. But, I’ve already lost too much blood…If we don't do something, both of us will die here.”

 

His voice is small, broken when he speaks again, choked with emotion even as buries his face in the dirt, still tugging fruitlessly. “Don’t...Don’t make me do this, please! I can’t….I can’t!” Voice warbly, it’s metallic edge distorted by his outburst. 

 

“Ssssh...it’s ok. Baby, it’s ok! It’s not your fault!” Your crooning only seemed to make things worse. His trembling only growing worse with every word you spoke. “Things like this happen, it’s part of our job! We knew the risks when we agreed to take part on these missions.”

 

“I can still...We can…” He choked, unable to even finish his sentence.  
You glanced to your right, eyes widening when dark clad figures moving within the trees caught your attention. You were out of time.

 

“Genji-Genji, look at me.” You smiled when that green stripe caught your eye, trying and failing to swallow your own tears this time. The cursed things blurring your vision. “I love you-”

 

“-No! [Y/N] , don’t say that..” The cyborg jerked as if he was trying to get away from you. As if running from your words would save him from reality. 

 

But, you continued regardless, “I’m so happy that I met you, and that you even noticed me in the first place-that you spent time with me, loved me…” You swallowed, voice shaking as you fought to find the right words. “You mean too much to me...I can't just let you die here, or be captured by them. Not when I can do something about it!”

 

“It's...not fair!” Genji seemed to shrink before your your eyes. Going from that strong, confident cyborg you loved to the young ninja you’d only heard about in stories. Before he’d become Zenyatta’s student, before he'd gained his new body. “Why...Why do you have to be the one to-”

 

“-Because I love you.” You stressed, reaching out with your left hand, straining to reach him- to touch him, until Genji ducked his head with a muffled sob. You couldn't get close enough to cup the metal of his helmet like you wanted. So, you had to settle for running your fingertips across the cool metal. Leaving thin crimson lines on the pale armor. “ You're going to make it back to base, understand? You're going to survive, and deliver the data we stole, right?”

 

He deflates, resigning himself to the task. A weak nod is the only sign you get that he's still listening.

 

A shot is fired, incredibly close, the bullet clipping the edge of Genji’s helm. Snapping off one of his antennae. The shouting grows louder, there's no doubt that they've spotted him. His glowing body isn't hard to miss.

 

But, the cyborg barely flinches. Keeps his gaze focused on you-on your face. Memorizing the curve of your cheeks the angle of your nose. The beautiful color of your eyes.

 

“...I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m not.” 

 

And just like that you're falling, wind whipping past you, pulse thundering in your ears. Weightless.

 

But, even the wind isn't enough to block out the roar Genji produces as he wrenches the blade from his hand. The jade dragon that springs forth dotted with crimson scales as he brings his sword down on the nearest Talon soldier.

 

You can still hear its cries even after the fog swallows you whole. Furious and inconsolable in its anguish.


	5. Discipline: Young Omega Genji X Alpha Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji isn't the kind of person who's easily deterred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little idea I got from a picture on tumblr.

You sensed him as soon as he turned down the hall, having grown to recognize his presence quite easily. Well, it was more like you HAD to learn how to recognize his presence. 

 

Keeping your head down and eyes forward you tried your best to focus on the various books in your locker, and become as small as possible. Sinking into your thick winter coat. Invisible. -

 

-“[Y/N]!” A second body slammed into you from behind before you even had a chance to react, trapping you between a wall of lean muscle and and cold steel. Next came the hands, still soft with youth, but littered with callouses from harsh training. Gripping hard at your hips as they tried to get at your body beneath the thick material of your jacket. 

 

Half of the other students stopped to stare at your predicament, while the others ignored you as if this was abnormal occurrence. 

 

Sadly, it was.

 

“Where were you? I was looking for you all last week!” They were practically whining as they rubbed against you, pressing you against the lockers in an attempt to get even closer. “You don't even smell like me anymore! You smell like, like….” You could just imagine the pout on their lips as they buried their face in your neck and breathing deep. Breathing you in.

 

And then they froze. Their sudden lack of movement causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. You swallowed hard, throat strangely dry as you tried to turn your head to catch a glance of your assailant’s face. “Genji?” Heart hammering in your chest you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. “Genji, can you let me go?....People are staring and-”

 

A growl rumbled up from deep within their chest. Dangerous and possessive. A sound you had only heard Genji make on two occasions, and both were life threatening. 

 

But, what had gotten him so riled up? As far as you could tell, there wasn't any danger nearby...

 

The wet slide of a tongue against your throat jerked your head out of the clouds, body stiffening as the culprit murmured something against your skin. Paying special attention to the end of your jaw, just below your ear. If he wasn't practically on top of you, you would've missed it.

 

“You smell like an Alpha.” 

 

That statement was enough to bring a fresh wave of blood surging to your face, “O-Of course I smell like an Alpha! I am one!”

 

While true, you hadn’t always known you were an Alpha. Having only just experienced your first rut last week. If anyone had asked you for your designation before, you would’ve answered Beta, plain and simple. It suited you just fine.

 

Apparently, your body didn’t agree. 

 

“You told me you were a Beta!” Genji whined, nuzzling against the tender flesh of your neck. “But, now you come back smelling so...so good...” Those hands of his delved lower, finally making it past the barrier of your coat, landing on your body.

 

You grit your teeth, grabbing his wandering hands with your own. The press of his body too much for you to handle so soon after your rut. Body still sensitive to touch. Maybe you should've listened to your mother and spent another day at home. But, no. You just couldn't bear to rack up anymore absences.

 

“Genji!” 

 

The green haired teen is ripped away from you so quickly, and with such force that you can actually hear the snap of thread as a couple buttons went flying along with him. There’s a bang followed by a grunt and the sound of hurried footsteps. The few students who had remained to watch the scene, whether it was out of curiosity or jealousy, scatter beneath the force of the elder Shimada’s glare. Even you have to remind yourself to hold your ground.

 

Genji peels himself off the lockers on the opposite side of the hall, matching his brother’s glare with ease. “You got a problem, Hanzo?” It only takes him a second, but the younger brother is already advancing on the elder.

 

Hanzo doesn’t even flinch. “My problem is you, and how you lack the control to keep your hands to yourself!” His voice is haughty, mocking even as he stares Genji down. “Honestly, you are a disgrace to our name.”

 

You felt the sting of those words and you were in no way a Shimada. Even if Genji was getting a little out of hand, there was no reason for such harsh words. Genji had always been overly affectionate for as long as you had known him. So, even though it was annoying, moments like this weren’t anything new. “Hanzo, come on...it’s not his fault! I-”

 

-The dark haired man cut you off with a wave of his hand, “Don’t make excuses for his incompetence, [Y/N]. Genji needs to learn to control his...urges.”

 

“And you need to control how far that stick is shoved up your ass!” Genji snarled, circling this brother like an animal about to attack. “Or are you just jealous that I’ve already found my mate?”

 

You frowned, “Wait a minute-”

 

Genji was slammed into the lockers for a second time, grunting as the metal caved beneath the force. Hanzo’s hand tight around his throat, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. His lips peeled back in a silent snarl, as he leaned in, “Do you honestly believe father would allow you to mate-”

 

“Is there a problem here?”

 

All at once, the tension in the air changes, the three of you freezing on the spot. Dread washed over you as you turned to address the new figure, knowing who it was even as you hoped your ears had tricked you. 

 

They hadn’t.

 

Standing just a few feet to your left stood the only teacher to strike pure fear into your heart. Mr. Eguchi. He started down at you from behind his horn rimmed glasses, cold grey eyes judging you, planning just how he could ruin your life today. Why did he have to be the one to find you?

 

“N-No...Mr. Eguchi, sir.” You flinched when those dead eyes focused on you, “Nothing is wrong...we were just heading to class, right?” Tearing your eyes away from the vacant, pits that threatened to steal your soul, you turned to frown at Hanzo and Genji. “Right?”

 

Hanzo, straightened up immediately, fixing his already impeccable uniform before bowing curtly. “Of course.”

 

“Yeah.” Genji grunted, peeling himself off the wall before storming past his brother, frown still etched onto his face. Still sour about the whole altercation he went out of his way to bump hanzo with his shoulder as he passed.

 

You scurried after him, not wanting to be near Mr. Eguchi or Hanzo. Hoping against all odds that he wouldn’t ask to speak to you once he saw the damage done to the lockers. You felt bad for whoever they belonged to.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

You rolled your eyes as the professor continued to blather on and on about how you would need to have a good understanding of calculus to get anywhere in the world. Writing equation after equation on the board much to your dismay. Not, that you hated the subject or found it particularly difficult...

 

You were so bored you wanted to tear your hair out! Why couldn’t they make subjects like these just a little more fun? 

 

Sighing, you slouched in you seat, head hanging back off your chair as you closed your eyes. Just 30 more minutes, [Y/N]! You can do this! 

 

You could make it through the rest of the school day.

 

“Pssst!”

 

You jolted back up, eyes snapping open as you whipped your head around. A couple of your classmates glanced at you, obviously confused by your erratic behavior, but none of them seemed to be trying to get your attention. 

 

Am I hearing things now? Dropping your head into your hands you frowned, beeking between your splayed fingers at your feet. Only to be met with a pair of mischievous amber orbs and a shock of green hair.

 

Genji smiled up at you from where he knelt between your legs. Crammed under your desk. “Yo.”

 

“Gen-” His hand shot out, covering your mouth and muffling the scream building in your throat. Your teacher didn’t even pause in their explanation of question 7’s answer.

 

He only lowered his hand once he was sure you wouldn’t scream again, bringing a single digit up to his lips to signal you to be quiet. But, you would be anything but silent.

 

Leaning down against your desk, you lowered your voice to hiss, “What. Are. You. Doing. Here!?” He wasn’t even in this class!

 

The younger Shimada merely winked as he made himself comfortable on the hard floor, hands gripping your thighs. “Relax! I just came to...apologize. For, you know…”

 

For earlier. For how he acted in the hall. For losing control of himself. All that and more remained unsaid, but you knew how to read the young swordsman by now. Could easily read between his words to discern the true meaning.   
Just like you knew he hadn’t snuck into your classroom just to apologize. So, when his left hand crept up your thigh towards your zipper you could only roll your eyes once again.

 

“Don’t you dare.” Your voice is sharp regardless of volume, and for once he does heed your command. Hand freezing just as it brushes the metal tag. Peering up at you through hooded lids and thick lashes. Expression far too needy for his own good.

 

Your pants hadn’t always been this tight, had they? You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. He knew exactly what that look would do to you. 

 

Little shit.

 

You told yourself this was a bad idea. That it couldn’t possibly end well, but you cock had a mind of it's own. Straining in it's cage, just as eager for the Omega between your legs as you were. Nibbling on your bottom lip you caught Genji’s gaze once more. “Be quiet at least….I don’t want to get in anymore trouble today!”

 

He had your zipper down and your cock in his hand before the word ‘quiet’ had even left your lips. Eager as always, Genji shoved your half hard dick into his mouth without a second thought. Rocking forward on his knees as his head bobbed up and down.

 

“Oh..fuu-” You gasped, biting your hand to keep yourself from crying out. Hips stuttering as you felt the head of your cock brush the back of Genji’s throat. The fact that the ninja in training you deep throat you no problem shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. Even if it was a pleasant one. 

 

Your free hand wound its way into those bright green locks, grabbing a fistful and tugging hard. Sending tiny pinpricks of pain skittering across his scalp. The ninja beneath you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. You don't see his hand slip between his own legs, the heel of his hand grinding against his own rapidly hardening length.

 

Genji didn’t let up either, hollowing his cheeks as he stared at you through his lashes. Even while sucking you off he still managed to look cute. Fingers twitching as they dug into your thighs. Tiny moans muffled by your dick. His face was flushed when he pulled back, tongue swirling around you length before it sprang free from his swollen lips with a barely audible pop. 

 

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” There’s saliva glistening on his lips, on his chin as his tongue dances across the head. Paying special attention to your slit and the precum oozing from it. You’re throbbing in his hands, already so close that your head is spinning. Your professor’s voice dulling to white noise in the back of your mind.

 

How was no one seeing this?

 

Your grip on his hair grows ever tighter. Breathing hard, you can only offer a jerky nod in response. Teeth digging almost painfully into your palm. You wonder how the bruises will look later.

 

Genji’s smile is all teeth as he eases you back into his mouth. The fire burning in his yes a perfect match for the one in licking at your gut. He doesn’t look away, but traps you in his gaze as he sucks you off. Doesn’t fight it as your hips jerk on their own, tiny thrusts brushing the back of his throat. The muscle convulsing around the stiff length. 

 

And just like that your body seizes, hand tugging harshly at his hair. Pulling him closer. Thankfully, Geni has no intentions to move away from you. Hands flying to the back of your chair as he forces as much of you into his throat as possible. Hips stuttering, your orgasms washes over you like a wave. Ripping a whine from your lips as you coat his throat with your seed. Thick, stringy strands filling his mouth to bursting. 

 

Genji swallows it all in earnest, greedy little mewls rising up from his chest. Sucking hard on your rapidly softening length. Trying to draw out every last drop. As if he can’t get enough of your taste. Like, he’ll never be able to have you in his mouth again.

 

You slouch even further in your seat, completely boneless and sated, muscles twitching. Floating in the afterglow.

 

At least until Someone clears their throat to your left. 

 

“Finally finished, have we?”

 

You jolted, legs coming together much to Genji’s dismay as you fumbled about, trying to cover yourself. Your calculus teacher stared down at you, face flushed and textbook clutched tight in their hands.

 

“I believe it goes without saying that both of you will have detention for the rest of the year, and that your parents will be contacted.”

 

Dammit, Genji.


	6. Rum and Dragons: Hanzo/Female Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hanzo leaves the party early, you want to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random blowjob, but for the elder Shimada brother this time.

For a dragon of such regal upbringing, Hanzo sure produced an undignified squawk when you shoved him into the nearby supply closet. Though, to his credit, he recovered quickly, twisting your arm and shoving you face first into the wall with a snarl. The frigid wall and the sudden pain in your arm is more than enough to wrench a gasp from your lips. Maybe you should’ve thought out this plan of yours a little more. 

“Hanzo!” You gasped, voice slightly muffled on account of your face being shoved into the wall.

The archer freezes, body going rigid. You can just barely see the way his eyes widen in the dim light shining through the door, still slightly ajar. He springs away from you a second later, an apology already spewing from his lips. Torn between cradling your twisted form and refraining from touching you at all. You can see the two emotions warring on his face when you turn to face him, rubbing the spot on your arm where he’d grabbed you. There would certainly be a bruise later.

“What were you thinking!?” It’s not a surprise that the eldest shimada is none too happy with how you decided to greet him. Not many would be too excited about being tackled and shoved into a closet. “If you had not said anything...I could have hurt you!.” He takes a step back at those words, pressing himself against the closet’s far wall, shadows just barely hiding the hard scowl on his face.

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me once you realized it was me.” Your teasing tone doesn’t sit well with the eldest shimada, but you ignored the way his lips curl into a snarl. Choosing instead to press your body against his own, smirking all the while. “And I was right.”

The press of your body soft against the stiff muscles and hard angles of his, the result of intensive training and harsh years spent on the run. Not to say that you were slacking off in your own training, but you were in no way as cut as the man before you.

Not that you were complaining or anything, you were quite fond of Hanzo’s body. Enjoyed the heat that radiated off, how the muscles twitched beneath your fingers as you trailed the expanse of his chest. But, most of all you enjoyed how Hanzo’s body betrayed him. Even with his iron will and mental fortitude, the man’s body knew what it liked.

His eyes narrowed, voice thick with suspicion as you moved closer still, erasing what little space had remained between the two of you. Until, you can feel the stuttering of his heart in your own chest. “What are you planning?” 

“What? I’m not planning anything!” The forced innocence in your voice only makes him scoff. Hanzo knows how you think, how you work. That only makes this all the more fun and you wonder how long it will take him to figure out exactly what it is that you’re planning.

Hanzo sighs, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilts his head to look at you, “You are not a very good liar, my love. Plus….” Rough, calloused fingers grip your chin, forcing your head to the side to expose your throat as his voice drops to a low growl, “You never could keep the smile from your face when you’re drinking.”

“I’m not drunk or anything!” True to his words, you hooked your arms around his neck, smile widening all the while. “I saw you leaving the party early….Did something happen?”

“No.” 

His answer is short, clipped. So unlike his previous tone that it takes you by surprise. Just like that, the good mood you had been working so hard to drag out of the normally stoic man up and vanishes with that single word. You actually already knew what the problem was, having witnessed the whole interaction that happened earlier in the day. The younger brother practically threatening to drag Hanzo to the party whether he liked it or not. Trying his best to remind his brother that all the agents in Overwatch were a team, and had to be able to work together like one. 

That meant getting along. And what better way to bond with your team than at a party?

Apparently, Hanzo did not agree with Genji’s idea. And though the eldest Shimada had made an appearance at the function, it quickly became obvious that he was not enjoying himself. Arms crossed and scowling in the corner, he hadn’t even tried any of the drinks! Unlike yourself who never could pass up free rum, regardless of how upset you were.

So, when hanzo had finally had enough, and opted to slip quietly out of the room, scowl etched into his face, you followed. How he hadn’t heard you giggling and mumbling to yourself in the empty hall was a mystery. Hanzo was usually so aware of his surroundings, distracted and deep in thought.

The spiced rum coursing through your system made you braver, bolder in the face of that frown. Giving you the courage to do something you’d been aching to try for quite some time. Only holding yourself back because you weren’t sure how Hanzo would react. Whether he would think you strange, or try to stop you outright. 

But, none of that mattered now, the heat in your face making you almost giddy as you pressed the heel of your hand into Hanzo’s side. He grunted at the sudden pressure, as you slowly drove your hand upward to his chest. Stopping only when your hand met the wide expanse of his chest. And you wasted no time spreading your fingers over as much of the flesh as possible. 

He was quick to grab your wrist, your name nothing more than a whisper between the two of you. Blood rushing to the man’s face. It was cute, how sensitive his chest was, and how much he tried to hide it. Embarrassed at how it barely took a few squeezes to have him breathing hard. The fearsome dragon becoming putty in your hands.

And that’s exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t bother to hide the smirk on your lips as you ducked your head, ducking your head to place kiss after kiss on the Shimada’s chest. Twisting your arm in his hold until you were able to grab his wrist in return.

His jaw shut with a snap, when your tongue grazed over his exposed nipple before taking the entire thing into your mouth. A hiss escaping through clenched teeth as you sucked hard, working the hardening bud with teeth and tongue. “...What...are you doing?” He shifted, unsure of whether he wanted to move closer to your mouth or farther away. Free hand tangled in your hair to keep you close.

You pulled back, releasing him from your mouth with an obscene pop. Grinning up at the man above you. “Well, right now I’m sucking on these beautiful tits of yours.” Your free hand fell to his thigh, rubbing affectionately when he nearly choked at the crudeness of your words. 

“They are not...tits-”

-You cut him off, returning your attention to the fleshy mound before you, nibbling at the flushed skin before taking him into your mouth again. The sharp intake of breath was music to your ears. Hanzo’s heavy breathing sending little jolts of electric pleasure straight to your core. Squeezing your thighs together only served to delight you further, the dampness of your panties pressing back against your slit. Just mouthing at his chest was turning you on. And if the hard press of his cock against your hip was anything to go by, you weren’t the only one.

But, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, something hot and heavy in your mouth. 

Hanzo whined, actually whined when you palmed him through the thick material of his hakama. Smirking devilishly at how rapidly the material was growing damp against your hand. Pulling away for the second time to admire your work. Twin peaks standing painfully stiff against the pink flushed skin of Hanzo’s chest. 

Cute, that was the word that sprang to mind as you pushed yourself up on your toes, capturing the elder Shimada’s lips in a surprisingly tender kiss. The hand cupping his length slowly inching its way upwards, tugging at the sash around his waist. 

Hanzo stiffened as the material fell away, kimono falling open with the slightest pull. Bearing the hidden flesh and putting it at the mercy of your roaming hands. He chuckled as you felt him up, fingers dancing over the muscle and scars gained over the years. The sound deep and too loud in such a small space. “You are... insatiable..”

While Hanzo’s words were a little harsh, they lacked any actual sting. Besides, they were true. Especially in this case. 

“So mean!” Your hand dips lower, slipping beneath the hem of his hakama, stroking the length hanging stiff and alert between his thighs. “You say things like that, but you’re already this hard for me, Hanzo.”

The darkening blush on his cheeks is adorable, but even as he grumbles about your uncouth words his cock twitches in your hand. Eager for your attention. Precum smearing against your palm. You smile once his head drops to your shoulder and he leaves a trail of kisses up to your jaw. Eyes slipping shut as he murmurs in appreciation at how skillfully you work him over with your hands. Hips thrusting lazily into your fingers.

You pull your hand away, smirking at the strangled moan Hanzo produces as you leave his cock standing rigid and pulsing from your teasing. You would’ve felt bad about stopping if you didn’t already have something even better in mind. 

The archer’s eyes fall open just as you slide down to your knees, hands settling on his hips. Pulling the material down just enough for his cock to spring free. His eyes are on you, widening as he realizes what you’re about to do. Protest already on his lips, but you don’t want to hear it.

He grabs a fistful of your hair just as your tongue slips free, circles the head of his cock. Words dissolving into a stuttering gasp. He can’t speak, can only shake his head at you, desperately trying to get his message across. Tugging relentlessly at your hair.

You don’t have to do this. Don’t need to service him like this. 

He isn’t worthy of it-of your love.

You’ve heard it all before, and don’t pay the man any attention as you slowly work your way down the shaft. Tongue lazily licking this way and that, making sure to touch as much as possible before you lean back and take his entire length into your mouth. The bitter taste of precum floods your mouth, just a hint of what you’re really after.

Hanzo’s grip on your hair is like iron when you finally begin to move, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you go. His other hand flies to his mouth, presses against his teeth in an effort to stifle the sounds threatening to fall from his lips.

Unacceptable. For once, you want him to lose that iron grip he has on his control.

With that in mind, you take him deeper, only wincing a little when the head brushes the back of your throat. Precum oozing down in a steady stream. He twitches against your tongue, the only warning you’ll get that he’s close before he releases into your mouth with a groan. Spraying the back of your throat. You swallow, swirling your tongue over as much of him as possible. Stroking his thighs affectionately. 

Hanzo lets his head fall back against the wall with a thump, tiny whimpers falling through his lips when you refuse to pull away. Bobbing your head with renewed vigor. Oh no, you wouldn’t be satisfied with just that. You needed more.

And you always got what you wanted, one way or another.

But, what you didn’t know, was that a certain cyborg ninja had followed you as well, peering through the crack in the door before smirking to as he watched his brother come apart under your skilled mouth. _So, that’s why aniki left the party so early…interesting._

What an unexpected turn of events.


	7. Holiday cheer: Jesse/Moira (OC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random Christmas story for Jesse/Moira. because Arikakun and JT_Sins told me to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Arikakun and JT_Sins told me to... And the cowboy probably would want a large family.

....I’m….This is a dream...

It’s the rustle of the sheets beneath their bodies that tips him off, they smell like vanilla and plum blossoms. A scent he shouldn’t be smelling right now, just like he shouldn’t be hearing the constant drum of rain pelting the roof. The scene is strikingly familiar

...It's more like a memory?...I remember now, this was just after that OP in Germany, the Alps. Three long months of freezing my ass off in waist deep snow.

He remembered coming back to the base in Gibraltar, back home. Sopping wet from the surprise storm, but still in high spirits when he finally managed to drag himself back to their shared room. Any feelings of fatigue or weariness vanishing as soon as his tired eyes fell on the figure lying sideways across the bed. Having tried and failed to find a comfortable position to escape the heat. 

He’d dropped his bags without so much as a second thought, the thump jerking Moira out of whatever dream she was having. Head snapping up as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice was still soft and thick with sleep when she’d demanded to know who was there. 

“It’s just me, sugarplum. Got back a little early.” 

He smirked when all the fight seemed to vanish from her body and she collapsed back onto the mattress with a tiny, “Heeey.”

Eager wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how quickly he’d shimmied out of his armor and wet clothes, tossing them into a pile somewhere in the corner before kicking his boots off on the way to the bed. The mattress dipping beneath his weight as he settled in behind her, peppering the backs of her shoulders with kisses.  
“Missed you so much, darlin’...Never wanna be away from you that long again.”

“I can see that.” She shivered as a few droplets fell from his hair, splashing against her skin. Moira snapped her hips back, pressing hard against the stiff erection jutting out from between his thighs. The sound he produced had her grinning into her pillow. “Looks like you’re not the only one that missed me.” 

“Now, don’t be mean.” 

She can't help it, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Smiles as he presses his lips against her skin again, murmuring how she tastes even better than he remembers. Right hand rubbing up and down her side, trying to recommit every inch of her flesh to memory while the thick fingers of his metal hand fumble with the waistband of her underwear.

She's wearing the green ones with the white stripes. The ones he had to buy to replace another pair he….ripped.

It's not until he has her on her stomach that she speaks again, panties tugged down around her knees, and ass in the air all ready and waiting for him. He's rocking against her when her voices catches his attention, too busy coating himself in her juices to notice the slight tremble at first.

“Thought about what you said..”

“‘Bout what?” His metal hand is in her hair, fisting the blue and black locks and tugging her head back. Putting her throat at the mercy of his teeth. His previous marks having long since faded. He would have to make more.

She stills, takes a deep breath. And even in his lust hazed mind Jesse could tell something serious was on her mind.

“About the house...the one you picked out?”

He freezes, mind suddenly crystal clear, and heart hammering against his ribs. He'd picked out a house before the last mission, sort of on a whim one night. Nice little thing, four bedrooms and a basement, with plenty of land to run around on...It was supposed to be a secret, a joke that only he knew about-the hopeless romantic that he was. 

But, the more he'd thought about that damn house the more he wanted it-craved it. Jesse wanted the house, and the big family, and the privilege of waking up to Moira's sleeping face every morning. He wanted it so badly that it was all he could think about sometimes. 

That and how he was going to pick his heart off the ground if she said no. As if he’d ever be able to recover from that. He’d argued with himself for months about whether or not he should go ahead and take the plunge, or wait for a more appropriate time. They were practically vigilantes as it was, and he was a wanted man! One with a substantial bounty on his head. What business did he have even thinking about settling down?

And yet, three months ago he'd placed the black velvet box on the bed without turning around. The one he had begged both Ana and Angela to help him pick out. Nearly causing both of them to tear their hair out in frustration as he dragged them from store to store, searching for the perfect one. The picture of the house hesitantly placed beside it. Trying and failing to Pretend his hands weren't shaking like he'd just been swimming in a vat of ice water.

She's sounded surprised, and almost afraid when she finally spotted the thing, demanding to know what it was. Taking a step back as though the box was going to rear up and bite her like some horrid monster. 

That...was not the reaction he’d been expecting.

So, he'd panicked. Leapt to his feet and bolted out the room, babbling about how it was just something he was thinking about, and he wasn't trying to pressure her into it or anything. She could just leave the thing if she didn't want anything to do with it. Jesse all but ran to the transport ship, tail between his legs.

He'd wanted nothing more than for a hole to open up and swallow him entirely. And made sure not mention the ring, the house, or anything that would jog her memory of his embarrassing proposal for the few months that he was away.

So, it made sense that he was more than a little surprised that she would bring it up herself. Especially after how she’d reacted last time.

“O-Oh…” He’s at a loss for words, mouth horribly dry. Why? Why did she have to bring that up now? Jesse tries to swallow as he presses his face into her shoulder, willing his voice to remain as even as possible in face of the bad news he’s about to hear. Throat tightening already, “Don’t worry about it, sweetpea. You don’t...you don’t have to-”

...You don’t have to let me down easy, is what he wants to say. I can take it. But, please, just let me have this one night. 

The words are lodged in his throat.

-“It’s...a pretty old house...and something like that is gonna need a lot of work, you know….Foundation could be cracked , general clean up, and a ton of remodeling...I mean, did you see the windows on that thing?”

It’s the taunting tone of her voice that catches his attention and pulls him back from the ledge he’d been balancing on. Even so, he’s afraid to get his hopes up. “Darlin’....what’re you tryin to say?”

She laughs at that, shifting her weight to the left and freeing her arm from beneath the pillow. It’s that same arm, that pries his hand away from her breast, slowly lacing their fingers together. “You tell me, cowboy.” 

Jesse’s confused to say the least, debating on whether or not he should just tell her to come on out and say it, or try and figure out her little hint on his own. All the while still trying to shield himself from being hurt even more. It takes him a minute to calm down, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath before exhaling against her skin. 

He squeezes her hand tighter, subconsciously pressing their fingers closer together.

That’s when he feels it, the warm band around her finger that wasn’t there before. Hard, and unmistakably metal. The crafted petals, cold against the warm skin of his fingers. Can picture the thing clear as day on her hand. But, he NEEDS to ask, NEEDS to hear the words come from her mouth, otherwise he won’t believe it.

So, he fights the rapidly forming lump in his throat, pushing past the unshed tears stinging his eyes as the question falls from his lips, nothing more than a croak, “You sayin’ yes to this-to me?”

“Would I be wearing the ring if I wasn’t?”

The words hits him like a truck, stealing every ounce of air from his lungs. And Jesse is all too happy that Moira can’t see his face, even as he presses it into the space between her shoulder blades. He couldn’t have his lady see him crying like a baby. Lips trembling and fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Even though there’s no mistaking the gasping, shuddering breaths he’s breathing out against her skin as anything but.

He squeezes her hand tighter, the jagged edges cutting into the sides of his fingers a welcoming pain.  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

“DADDY!”

The shriek snaps him out of his dream mere milliseconds before a tiny five year old ball of endless energy comes hurtling out of the darkness only to crash land on his back. His pained groan is swallowed up by the girl’s laughter. It only takes her a moment to pull the covers back, chilled winter air invading the snug cocoon he’d created under the sheets. Tiny hands patting his face, pushing back the tangled mass of hair around his forehead. Jesse cracks open an eye, expecting to be blinded by sunlight filtering through the window. But, it surprisingly met only by darkness and a shaft of light peeking in from the hall that creeps up the opposite wall.

His attacker giggles again, crawling under the sheets before flopping down next to him. “I got you, Daddy!” 

His sleep addled mind finally puts a name to the voice, Mona, his oldest daughter. 

“Yeah, ya did.” His eyes are burning, and probably still red after the late night he’d spent plucking presents from their hiding places before wrapping them, and finding the perfect place for them under the tree. Moira had teased him for waiting until the last minute as always. Her gifts already wrapped and labeled months ago.

The show off.

It had been his idea to rent the lodge up in the mountains for christmas years ago, and it had become a sort of tradition of theirs. To travel during the holidays, always somewhere cold and snowy, knowing Moira’s love for the stuff. Even though he’d rather be somewhere with weather that didn’t threaten to turn him into a human statue the moment he steps outside.

Speaking of outside….He glances at the window again, frowning at the lack of sunlight. “What...time is it?” He yawns, reaching behind him to tug at the covers.

Mona makes a noncommittal sound as she scoots closer, tucking herself under his arm. Trying to steal what warmth she can. “It’s time to open presents!” Her icy feet push incessantly against his thigh with every word.

“Alright, alright…” It feels like it takes ages for him to muster up the energy to turn his head, bleary eyes seeking the dim light of the holographic clock that should be on the night stand.

What he’s met with instead are another pair of dark eyes, gaze unblinking as if they’re trying to stare into the depths of his very soul. It takes every ounce of Jesse’s self control not to shout. Freezing in place as he stares back at the other twin, the younger one, clutching the oversized penguin toy she’d gotten for her birthday to her chest. 

“It's….4 and a half.” She mumbles, hiding the lower half of her face in the animal’s fabricated fur.

His lips curl into a tired smile, heart still trying to recover from it's previous shock, “Ophelia, sweetheart? Member how we talked ‘bout you being a little louder, so folks would know yer in the room?”

She nods, curtain of hair hiding her face as she hugs the toy tighter. “Yes….”

“Can ya work on that for, Daddy?”

“....OK.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, lifting her gaze from the ground just enough to allow him to follow her gaze. Eyes fixed on the edge of the bed, his left arm specifically. Or, what’s left of it without his artificial one. His arm had been just one of the any things he’d been worried about right after the twins were born. 

What if they didn’t like him? What if his arm freaked them out? What if the kids in school teased them because of it? Luckily, it seemed that none of his fears had amounted to anything.

It only takes him a second to connect the dots, grinning widely as he raises his arm, creating a little tent under the sheets. “C’mon, there’s plenty a room for you, too.” 

Ophelia is already pressed against him before he’s finished his sentence. Face pressed against his side as he drops his arm. “Mama, said to wake you up...so we can open our presents…”

Of course she did. 

A tired grunt is all he can manage. The warmth of the bed, and the two bodies on either side of him, lulling him back to sleep. “Give daddy a minute to rest his eyes will ya?” He just needed to close his eyes, just for a few minutes. Then he’d be able to get up without any problem. 

“DADDY!” 

He jumped, eyes flying open once again. “I’m up! Daddy’s up!” Even though every fiber of his being is begging him not to move, Jesse forces himself up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, yawning once more. “Let me brush my teeth, and I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Promise?” Mona isn’t about to take any chances this time, eyeing her father warily as he yawns yet again. 

He nods, eyes still barely open and bleary, “I promise, now go on.”

Mona is out the room in a flash, high pitched squealing and rapid footfalls the only evidence of her presence. To say she was excited wouldn’t be doing her justice.

Ophelia however, merely slides off the bed, still clutching her toy. But, unlike her sister, she doesn’t leave the room. Choosing instead to move towards the nightstand, tiny hand reaching out to grasp the hunk of metal.

Oh...oh he’s seen where this is going many times before.

“Ya gonna help me put my arm on?”

“Mmhmm” Dropping the plush penguin to free up both hands, the girl half lifted, half pulled the metal arm off the small table.

It’s not a question so much as a statement. A routine that had developed without his knowledge until Moira had brought it to his attention one morning. Ophelia seemed to have a sort of obsession with his arm, a fascination more like it. Anything dealing with robotics or cyberization, really. Having taken it upon herself to help her father reattach his arm whenever possible.

Tossing the arm onto the bed, she crawled up after, seating herself on his left side. Turning the arm over so she could line up the socket with the port on his arm. Once she was satisfied that everything was perfect, her eyes rose to meet his. “Ready?”

“Go for it, hun.” Her concern was touching, but unnecessary. Jesse had become used to the pain that came with attaching his arm every morning. The lightning sharp burns that sizzled down the nerve endings as the prosthetic connected. It was just something that had to be done, and couldn’t be avoided.

Ophelia just didn’t understand that yet. Patting the space where skin met metal as he grit his teeth against the pain. The thick metal fingers jerking sporadically before they finally began to obey his commands.

Jesse smiled down at ther, trying to ease the look of concentration etched onto her face. “See? Workin’ fine. Just like always.” 

She hummed, staring hard at the skull adorning the metal, tiny brows furrowing hard before sliding off the bed, retrieving her toy, and trudging out of the room.

Jesse sighed, he didn't have a clue what that one was thinking half the time.

Just like her mama, that one. 

Mama, that word still sent him reeling, Mama. Something he'd nether thought he'd refer to another woman as. It still sent a delightful little shiver down his spine when his girls called him Daddy.

With a shake of his head the gunslinger pushed himself to his feet and slowly meandered into the bathroom. He couldn't keep his girls waiting after giving them his word, right?

At least fifteen minutes had passed before the gunslinger was awake enough to descend the polished steps without endangering his life. By then the heat from the fireplace had spread all across the first floor, enveloping the hardwood floors and stone walls in a comforting cloud of warmth. And he thanked whatever gods there were for his wife’s thoughtfulness.

Wife. That was another title Jesse never thought he'd encounter as a wanted man.

Mona and Ophelia were keeping themselves busy sorting the presents into piles. The obnoxiously large tree, that he’d just had to have, sparkling silently behind them against the still dark windows. Snowflakes silently piling up outside. A pretty picture fit for a christmas card, but Jesse is more concerned with following the sweet smell of coffee in the air. He was going to need a cup, or four if he was going to have any chance of staying awake.

The wood is warm beneath Jesse’s bare feet as he meanders his way into the kitchen. Clad only in a pair of cotton pajama pants and an old tank top. Moira’s back is to him, the woman bent over the counter and too focused on the holo-pad in front of her to turn around. But, that didn’t mean she hadn’t noticed his approach. 

“Finally up, huh?” She doesn’t turn around, but reached over to place a full mug on her left, the liquid piping hot. Black, with lots of sugar. Just how she knows he likes it. “I didn’t think you’d be up for another three hours at least.”

He goes for the coffee first, groaning deep in his throat as the liquid burns his throat in the best way, warming him from the inside out. Gulping down the cups contents in thirty seconds flat Jesse turns his attention to the female beside him. Wrapping his arms around her, covering her body with his own, nuzzling her neck. Drinking in the way she squirmed when his beard tickled her. “Mornin’ to you, too darlin’. Mind tellin’ me why we can’t get up at a reasonable hour? Like normal folk?”

“Oh, so I’m not normal because I wake up early?” Moira chuckled, turning in his arms to finally face him. “I told you they’d be up early.”

“Yeah, but not this early!” His retort earns another laugh before Moira disentangles herself from his hold, strolling out of the kitchen, clad only in her tank and shorts. He pouts at the loss of contact.

“Come on, the sooner we get started, the sooner you can take a nap.” He can practically see the smile on her face as he turns to fill his mug again. “We wouldn’t want to keep you from your beauty sleep, now would we?”

Pretending to be surprised by presents he’d just wrapped hours later is much easier with caffeine coursing through his veins. Luckily, he doesn’t have to fake his surprise at his own gifts. Moira had made sure to hide them away well enough to ensure he’d never find them.

And he’d turned that house upside down whenever he’d had the chance.

And when every box and bundle had been opened, and Jesse was just about to doze off on the couch, Moira announced that there was still one present left to give. Making him promise to close his eyes, and keep them closed before she scurried off somewhere, eyes bright. Keeping them closed was the easy part, it was keeping them open that was proving a challenge.

Moments later something soft is dropped onto his chest, and his hands automatically shoot up to grab it, only to me met with a...tongue? Eyes snapping open only to come face to face with a pair of dark floppy ears. Mona’s shriek of excitement causing them to perk up.

A dog...no, not just a dog, a puppy. The thing was tiny, paws still too big for it's body, and ears not even pricked upright. Just staring right at him with those big brown eyes, crooked tail beating against his leg with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Every cowboy in those old holovids you love so much always has a horse and a dog,” Mora explained slowly. Her own ball of white and grey fluff cradled in her arms. Head cocked to the side nonchalantly. “But, there’s no way I’m going to get you a horse, so you’ll have to make do with the dog.”

“...He’s perfect, Sugar.” His voice cracked a little, but he carried on as though he hadn’t noticed a thing. Forcing himself to talk past the lump forming in his throat. “Yer too good ta me.”

He named the pup Eastwood, after one of the most famous cowboys he knew of. He would have big shoes to fill with such a namesake. Moira’s little pile of fluff is given the name pochi by the girls. Curly tail wagging this way and that as it tried to get it's little mouth on anything and everything.

Jesse wasn’t going to come right out and say that Eastwood was one of the best gifts he’s gotten, Moira would never let him hear the end of it. But, ask anyone else, and the stupid cowboy never seemed to shut up about that damn dog of his.

It wasn’t until a few days later that things got interesting. A sudden bout of nausea and dizziness put Moira out of commission for most of the day. Symptoms which Jesse was quick to pin on her lack of sleep, forcing her into bed with no means of negotiation. That didn’t mean she didn’t complain about it.

Once he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to spring out of bed the second he left the room, Jesse was finally able to turn his attention to the twin girls dying to show their new family members snow for the first time. It took at least a half an hour to get the two of them bundled up and prepared for the cold. Hats, gloves, scarves, and boots….he needed a nap just getting the two of them dressed!

Jesse still preferred the warmth of the south over the stinging winds of the mountains, but he could make an exception to make snow angels with his girls. Laughing as the pups took their first awkward steps in the strange powdery substance. Pochi’s white coat blending in a little too well with the snow, giving him a heart attack every ten minutes or so when he couldn’t find the thing. At least eastwood was darker, and seemed more interested in trying to catch the snowballs Mona and Ophelia were tossing at each other. It was nice, and he’d give anything to keep having moments like these.

And then Moira’s shouting cut through the air like a siren.

“JESSE McCREE, YOU GET YOUR SPUR WEARING ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Mona’s jaw dropped as her father jumped into action, slipping and sliding in the snow. “Her gleeful exclamation still ringing in his ears as he stumbled back into the lodge. “OOOOOH!! Daddy’s in trouble!”

And if the murderous expression on Moira’s face was anything to go by, daddy most certainly was in a mess of trouble. 

He frowned, pulling his hat from his head and placing it on a nearby table, wringing his hands anxiously. “You..uh..you called for me sweetheart?” Trying and failing to remember anything he’d done to warrant such a glare.

Shit, did I leave the seat up again!?

“Don’t you sweetheart me, you ass. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Ignoring the shocked look that overtook the cowboy’s face, Moira snatched something from her back pocket and shoved it in his face. “You were planning this, weren’t you!?”

Jesse blinked, eyebrows raised in surprise as he stared at the white and blue stick of plastic before him she’d so elegantly thrust at him. A little screen sat in the center with a single word inscribed on it.

Pregnant. 

The cowboy’s eyes grew large, comically so. Gloved hands trembling from excitement rather than the cold as gingerly took the tiny device from her. Cradling it as though the thing would snap if he so much a breathed on it too hard. They hadn’t had the chance to discuss having more children with the insanity that had come with raising the twins and completing missions for Overwatch. That’s not to say he hadn’t thought about it. Cause he had.

A lot, actually.

“Yer pregnant again?” Jesse tried, he really tried to hide the excitement that was seeping into his voice. Knowing it would piss the woman off more than she already was, but he just couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He was ecstatic! “We’re gonna have another little one!?” Laughter bubbling forth as he reached for her, wanting to take her in his arms. This was fantastic!

He was going to be a father again! 

Moira frowned, trying to bat his hands away, hating how his positive attitude always seemed to disperse her rage. It just wasn’t fair. That stupid smile of his shouldn’t be so contagious. “Don't sound so excited, I'm the one who’ll be doing all the hard work!”

“How do ya expect me to not be happy!?” Not even that glare of hers could ruin the cowboy’s mood as he pulled the spear wielder into a crushing hug, spinning her around in the entryway. “This is an even better present that the dog!”

“This isn’t a christmas present!”

It took Moira longer to accept the fact that she was indeed pregnant again, and would be adding new additions to their family. Her concerns mostly dealing with the lack of space in the house, and how a new addition would affect their lives. Hell, they’d just finished getting rid of the twins old baby items, only to realize they would need them again. 

But, more didn’t mean one, oh no, that would be too easy. Expected. The cowboy was practically beaming when Angela showed them the ultrasound, pointing out not one, not two, but three squirming masses in Moira’s tummy.

Triplets...Look like Jesse was going to get his big family after all. 

Apparently, they had a knack for multiples. 

But this new information brought about a new problem. Neither one of their cars was big enough to hold all five kids at once. And with Moira already 7 months along time was running out.

So, what choice did the gunslinger have, but to round up everyone and take a little detour through a car dealership on the way back from a particularly exhausting shopping trip. With Moira asleep in the car, and the twins’ bribed into silence with the promise of ice cream, there was nothing stopping him.

“Jesse, where the heck are we?” 

He froze, goosebumps rushing up his arms as he whipped his head around to face the woman beside him. He hadn’t even taken his hand off the ignition yet. “Uh...crap...I thought you were asleep, darlin’.”

Shit.

Moira’s left eye slid open, pegging her husband with a knowing look before glancing towards the window. “....I was.”

Mona bounced up and down behind her, held still only by the seat belt strapped across her chest. “Daddy said we’re gonna look at cars! And then get ice cream!”

Both eyes flew open at that, and Jesse could feel his death drawing closer by the second as Moira exhaled slowly through her nose, “Did he now?”

Jesse winced, “What I said was ya’ll’d get ice cream if ya could keep a secret...Not announce it as soon as he got here!”

“That’s not fair!” Ophelia’s eyes began to water at the very thought of not getting her favorite frozen treat. “She told mama, not me! She shouldn’t get any ice cream!”

Mona gasped, mouth falling open in shock. “Hey!” 

“Shush, both of ya!” Running a gloved hand down his face, Jesse turned to frown at the two in the back seat. “Ya made a promise and ya broke it. End of story. No whinin’ or complainin’, it’s yer own fault.”

The two fell silent, all pouty faces and large eyes glistening with unshed tears.

You could practically see the walls of Jesse’s will crumble piece by piece. A funny thing, really. Moira knew what he was going to say as soon as he sighed.

“....Fine...Fine!. If ya’ll can behave while we’re here I’ll think about gettin’ ya some later.”

If there was one thing Mona and Ophelia had learned during their six years on this earth, it was that when he said things like, ‘I’ll think about it’ or ‘We’re just goin’ ta look’ it usually meant things would work out in their favor 99.9998% of the time.

Damn, that man was a softy.

The were definitely going to get ice cream later. Just like Moira was going to walk out of this dealership with a shiny new Range Rover. In Namib Orange, just like she wanted, and filled to the brim with all sorts of high end parts and equipment. Regardless of the price, and that was before Winston got his hands on it. Because if Jesse had let her in on the fact that new new wheels had cost him over 200 grand, even with trading in her old car, she might’ve gone into premature labor right in the middle of the showroom floor.

“I jus wanna make sure you n’ the little ones are safe, darlin’.”

Moira had rolled her eyes at that remark, hand outstretched to accept the keys.

There was no way this cowboy was going to let his posse ride around in anything that couldn’t withstand a bullet...or a couple hundred. He had five little ones and a beautiful wife to look after!

And he'd been glad for the extra room, the triplets making a unanimous decision to have their grand debut a whole month ahead of schedule. 

Jesse wasn't ready for any of it. The rush to the hospital had been the easy part, he wasn't even embarrassed when Angela called ahead to inform the staff on call on Moira’s medical records, getting a room prepared ahead of time. No, the hard part came later. When they were eight hours in and he was exhausted with all the anxious waiting and trying to corral two curious and hyperactive five year olds who just wanted to be included in anything and everything that was going on. Not to mention the feelings of helplessness that threatened to consume him when there was no way for him to help ease the pain of Moira’s contractions.

And suddenly everything started happening at once, doctors and nurses rushing this way and that. Yelling at her to start pushing. The pristine white sheets suddenly turning crimson.

Blood, that was….a lot of...

Jesse stumbled back, stomach churning as his eyes watched the rapidly expanding pool spread from within his wife’s legs. And was that, a head? “Darlin’...I-” He choked, back meeting the wall.

He didn't remember any of this from the last time.

Moira’s eyes flicked over to him, having somehow heard him over the commotion. Eyes dark and brow furrowed in concentration. “Jesse!” 

Why did he feel so light headed?

“Jesse don't you dare-”

The last thing he remembered were the tiles rushing up to meet him, and Moira’s shouting sounding so far away. Luckily, he came to around the time the last one was being brought into the world. Kicking and screaming, and ass first. That one was Isabelle.

Isabelle, did she have a pair of lungs on her. Jesse’d never heard a baby scream that loud in all his years. Tiny hands balled into fists. She was not a happy girl.

Ava was the first, and the largest….A mama’s girl who had to be kicked out of the nursery because she just wouldn't stop crying. But, clammed up as soon as she was in the same as Moira, much to the confusion of the nurses.

Then there was Charlotte, the middle one. Born with a full head of hair, and had no problem letting her displeasure show right on her face. She didn't like all these strange people in masks poking her, prodding her, not one bit. Tiny angry grunts and a scrunched up face.

All three girls were wrinkly, squirmy, and upset about one thing or another. But, they were still perfect. And they were his.


	8. Static: Young Hanzo X Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some stuff for a yakuza AU with young Hanzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing for young Hanzo, enjoy.

The acrid stench of blood is thick in the air. Choking him. As if each crimson drop staining his flesh has a pair of hands of their own, red fingers closed tight around his throat. Chipped and cracked nails clawing at his face, his eyes. It has all gone cold by the time Hanzo was tossed into the room, landing with a grunt as he was thrown onto the hard floor.

They hadn’t even bothered to clean up Genji’s blood. Opting to leave the room as it was while they hunted him down instead. Hanzo grit his teeth as a collective murmur rose up from around the room. It seemed all the elders would be present for his punishment as well. 

He should’ve known that they wouldn’t let him out of their sight, not so soon, and especially not after how he’d fled after administering Genji’s punishment….No, after he’d murdered him. Had proved his loyalty only to turn and spit in their faces by trying to escape his family’s influence. 

And Hanzo had almost made it, had almost managed to get out of Hanamura undetected. He would’ve been on a train to any destination of his choosing….if he hadn’t gone to your apartment. If he had just stuck to his original plan and left Hanamura to begin with...maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Maybe they wouldn’t have captured you, too.

Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his knees, wincing at the fresh pain in his gut. Arms shaking with the effort. His body felt weak, unbearably so. They’d confined him to a room without food for what he could only assume was a few days. 

The lights were blinding, forcing him to momentarily shield his eyes, blinking rapidly against the brightness. 

But, the elders didn’t care whether or not he could see them, and launched right into their speech. “You’ve disappointed us, young master. We gave you the honor of disciplining your wayward brother, and this is how you repay us? With betrayal and desertion?”

“Discipline?” Lowering his arm the Shimada heir growls at the four figures looming over him, baring his teeth like some kind of caged animal. “What you refer to as discipline is murder to the rest of the world!” He doesn’t make a move, not yet. Not with the guards standing by the door. If he’s going to have an chance of getting out of the Shimada compound alive, with you in tow, he would have to be careful.

There was no room for mistakes.

The rightmost elder snorted, gnarled hands stroking his beard, “Your brother Genji was weak willed, and a trouble maker. The clan has no patience for those who refuse to abide by our rules….And as such, he was punished accordingly.” 

“So, you will kill anyone who holds different values than yourselves!?” Hanzo roared, eyes ablaze with anger at the mere mention of Genji’s name. “You are nothing more than old men set in your ways! Afraid to relinquish your power, and threatened by anyone who you think is out to overthrow you!” Hanzo surged to his feet, hands balling into fists at his sides. “Had I not been such a fool and listened to my brother, I would’ve aided him when he stood against you!”

The middle-left elder chuckled, the sound more of a wet, sickly cough than a laugh. “And yet, you didn’t. You stood with us and slaughtered your brother at our command.”

“But, then you tried to run.” The leftmost elder mumbled, sounding almost disappointed, “And we had such high hopes for you, Hanzo. You showed so much potential, just like your father…”  
Hanzo merely grunted as the old men continued their rant. “But, alas, you are just as weak willed as your brother….”

The last elder finally spoke up, nodding as he clasped his hands together, “You will have to be punished as well…”

Now, those words caught the young heir’s attention, causing a shiver to shoot down his spine. Were they going to sentence him to death like they did Genji, or something worse? And if he was to be killed, what would become of you? None of the guards would answer his questions no matter how much he demanded answers.

It seemed that he’d been stripped of any power he’d ever held.

_So be it._

“If you are going to kill me, be done with it, I do not fear death.” He didn’t have any right to be afraid after the horrible things he’d done. Frowning, he lowered his gaze to the floor. “All I ask is that you release [Y/N]. They are innocent, and have nothing to do with any of this.”

The rightmost elder blinks, surprise etched onto their face. “Oh, do not worry dear Hanzo, we have no intentions of taking your life. Far from it in fact.”

The left one nods in agreement, inclining their head ever so slightly. “Yes, we still have hope that you will mature into a great elder someday….with the correct guidance.” The smile that graces the elder’s lips make the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. It’s too sweet, too kind compared to all the images running through his thoughts.

What kind of guidance could they possibly be talking about?

“Do not worry, Hanzo.” The second elder from the left chirps, unreasonably cheerful. “We will make you strong. Stronger than your brother, even stronger than your father.”

The tiny voice in the back of Hanzo’s mind tell him to run. Screams at him to make a break for it while he has the chance. He can overpower the guards, there are only two of them. The elders are old, he can outrun them. But, even as he runs the plan over in his mind, sees it coming to life before his eyes, he remains rooted to the spot like a statue.

They move as one entity, separating evenly to reveal an ornate chair. But, the chair isn’t important, it's what lays in the chair that catches Hanzo’s attention. More like, who.

_....No_

Their face is hidden, covered with a bag. But, Hanzo doesn’t need to see your face to know it's you. He’s memorized your posture, the way you curl into yourself when frightened. The bracelet he’d given you only days prior glinting almost mockingly in the lamp’s light. Bruises litter whatever skin isn’t covered by your clothes, and there are surely more where he can’t see. An alarming amount of dried blood stains your chin and the front of what used to be a crisp, white shirt. Your feet are bare, the toenails dark and bloodied.

Had this been what you’d been subjected to while he was merely confined to a room?

“...[Y/N]!” Your name bursting from his lips seems to shatter whatever semblance of calm Hanzo had been holding onto. He whirls around to face the elders, eyes wide and frantic. “Release them at once! They’re an outsider! None of this concerns them!”

“And yet, you ran straight to them in the wake of Genji’s death.” The first elder, pointed out, “You had the perfect opportunity to flee, but chose instead to jeopardize everything by taking them with you….Now, why is that?”

The second cocked their head inquisitively, “One would think that it would be because they mean a great deal to you. Is that true, young master?”

“Of course not!” He answered too quickly, voice high and defensive. There was no way for him to argue his way out of this. They’d had him cornered the moment the guards had spotted them at the station. 

The third raised their eyebrows in surprise, “Truly? Mere moments ago you were begging us to release them, and yet you say they mean nothing to you? “ A gnarled hand slipped inside their kimono, blade glinting as they pulled out the knife. “If you have no feelings toward them, then their death should not affect you, correct?” In a flash the blade is flush against your throat, pressing hard into the skin.

The noise you make is muffled by both the bag and the elder’s hand, but the fear and surprise in your voice urges Hanzo into action nonetheless. He knows he’s damned the both of you the second he wrenches the knife from the elders cold, sandpaper like hands. The metallic click of guns being readied behind him is almost deafening.

He doesn’t need to turn around to know how many guns are pointed at him. 

“We can’t simply let them go.” The fourth states ominously, the scrape of metal loud in his ears. “You know what must be done.”

It’s hard to say whether it's anger or fear that has him lashing out at the elder again, perhaps a mixture of both. Knocking the sword out of their hand with a shout. The furious mix of emotions is making him irrational, keeping him from thinking straight. Little beads of sweat dot his forehead. Eyes darting around the room, searching for a way out, a way to escape even though he knows there isn’t one. 

Not one that have the two of you leaving alive, that is. And he would rather kill you with his own two hands than leave you in the hands of the elders for one more second.

The sword is thrust into his hands once more, the hilt warm, worn, and eerily familiar in his hands. For a split second Hanzo is tempted to try anyway, to turn and separate the elder’s heads from their necks. Go down fighting even though he knows that there are more guards waiting just outside the doors to gun him down. He doesn’t care, the prospect of death doesn’t scare him. That, at least, was not a lie.

His grips the hilt so tight that it cuts into his skin, shifts his weight ever so slightly to the left-

-A whimper from you is all it takes to send what little courage he’s gathered crumbling like a house of cards once again. 

Slowly, he reaches out and rips the bag from your head, jaw clenching tight as his dark eyes fall on the plethora of fresh bruises that mar your face. Your left eye is so swollen that there’s no way it could possibly open. The flesh an ugly purple color. The other….the sunken eyelid and dried blood on your cheeks tells Hanzo everything he needs to know. You would never see out of that eye again.

He’s as gentle as he can be when be when he strokes the bruised expanse of your cheek with his thumb. But, you jump anyway, obviously still on edge and unused to anything other than pain being inflicted on your form for the past few days. “My love, can you hear me?” 

You start again, straining against the bindings that hold you in place. Trying to move as close to him as the ties will let you. The sight like a knife in his heart. 

This is all because of him. You’ve been forced to endure all of this pain because of him. All the times he’d warned Genji about his various partners, urged him to keep them at arm's length lest they draw the clan’s ire.

And yet, he was the one forced into this situation. How ironic.

“Forgive me, [Y/N], all of this is my fault.” Lowering his voice to a mere whisper allows the two of you some semblance of privacy, and he’s quick to apologize. If he was able to find a way to get you out of this place, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

“....Run…” Your voice is so small and weak that Hanzo thinks he might’ve imagined the thing if he hadn’t seen your lips move with his own eyes, cracked and bloodied. “They’re going to kill you when you’ve finished with me.”

Somehow, Hanzo isn’t surprised. 

He nods, remembering too late that you can’t exactly see him. “Just be patient, I will think of something…”

But, you aren’t in the mood for waiting anymore. Not when you know he can make it out of here on his own. “Hanzo...listen to me. My legs are broken. I can’t...run.” You never thought you’d be thankful for a black eye, but at least you can blame your tears on the physical pain instead of the emotions that are threatening to choke you. This isn’t how you thought you’d die. Strapped to a chair at the mercy of a Yakuza family for having a relationship with their heir. You wouldn’t call yourself brave, not by a long shot. You’re scared out of your mind, but the fact remains. 

Your legs are useless, and Hanzo can’t fight and carry you at the same time. Insisting he find a way to save you would only end in both of your deaths. The choice has been made for you.

You can feel him stiffen in front of you, but press on anyway. “You can’t expect to get out of this place while carrying me on your back.”

“I will find a way-”

“-Even you know you’re outnumbered, Hanzo.”

He snarls, wishes he could argue against your logic even though it's the truth. Desperately wants to promise that he’s capable of killing the hundreds of hired guards all by himself. That he will be carrying you out of here. That he’s strong enough to protect you, to save you.

But he can’t lie to you.

“Hanzo, I want you to run.”

It takes all Hanzo’s strength not to collapse against you, and beg. Beg you to reconsider, though he knows there’s no use in it. You’re as stubborn as he is when your mind is made. He shakes his head, blade tight in his hand. “You would just have me leave you?”

“Yes.”

His throat grows tight, and only then does he realize he’s trembling. “They will kill you...Am I supposed to run away with my tail between my legs like some kind of dog?”

“You are supposed to run away and live, Hanzo.” Your lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile, skin damp with pained tears. “I know you’re going to grow strong. But, do it on your terms, ok? Show them….for me.” 

The elders begin grow impatient with his stalling, murmuring about how they’ll have to take matters into their own hands if he doesn’t hurry.

Hanzo does crumble at that, falls to his knees with an anguished cry. The blade clutched tight in his sweaty palms. And he’s thankful that you can’t see his tears and how they fall unobstructed to the floor. “I couldn’t keep you safe.”

Why? Why was he the only one to live? Why was he forced to kill the ones closest to him? Why couldn’t he just lay down and accept his death as well?

Why did you have to have so much faith in him?

You barely make a sound when he surges to his feet, the sword piercing your chest, don’t scream or cry. Just a surprised grunt and a thin trail of crimson leaking from the corner of your mouth. It stains your teeth when you grimace. The blood bright against your bruised and darkened flesh. Even so, you still manage to smile as he whispers for you to forgive him again. Repeating the words like a broken record, and in a way he is broken.

“Good job, young master.” A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, “We are so very proud of you.” 

The weight on his shoulder makes him want to vomit.

The tattoo on his left arm itches, the muscles twitching. He can’t breathe.

A roar shakes the room, suddenly bright with a light so blinding it brings tears to his eyes. Hanzo can’t tell whether the sound is of his own making or simply in his head, but the rage pulsing through his veins is all that matters. It’s an all consuming flame that swallows the young swordsman alive. The sword is dyed red with your blood when he pulls it from your chest, swinging the blade in a wide arc before it lodges into the skull of the closest elder.

There is another roar, a second, just as loud and angry as the first. Drowning out the shocked cries and shouts of the elders as Hanzo tears through them without remorse.

Everyone within the clan would know of the carnage they had released upon themselves this day. Would live in fear of the man they should have killed when they had the chance. But, to those outside of the clan the destruction of the Shimada estate would only resemble the rampage of an furious beast. All teeth and claws.

Just as they made him.


	9. I prefer my cyborgs chilled  Genji X Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's super cold, and your local ninja cyborg tries to warm you up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Genji stuff. This time a little fluffy nonsense. Short and sweet.

“You should take the bed.”

The cyborg’s declaration jerks you out of your thoughts. Returning you father forcefully to reality, and your current situation. One mission in scandinavia during the coldest part of the winter, plus one small unassuming hotel, subtract a broken heating system, and mix in two agents. What do you get from that equation?

One huge problem.

You blinked, eyes growing wide as your partner’s words finally registered in your mind. “Wait, what?” Turning to face the silver plated ninja who’s already halfway out of the room. “N-no...We don’t know how long this mission is going to last so….We should at least trade off every-”

“-Not necessary.” Genji’s voice is soft, almost totally eclipsed by the hum of cars and chatter from outside. “It’s very cold….and with this body I do not require as much sleep as I used to. You would put it to better use.” And just like that he was gone, out the window to ‘scout the area’. A tiny cloud of hot air left floating in his wake. The only proof that he’d been there to begin with. 

That was how you found yourself alone, huddled under the paper thin sheets. Freezing your ass off even with the complementary pair from the closet layered on top. The manager had assured you that the problem was being addressed, but that was over six hours ago. And the dinky space heater they’d oh so graciously given you, looked like it was the beginning to develop a nice coating of frost.

In other words, useless….

You exhaled, a long drawn out breath that you instantly regretted. The sight of your own breath hanging before your eyes only served to remind you just how cold it was. 

As if your fingers weren’t already numb.

“This is stupid. I should just go get something hot to drink.” You mumbled to yourself. Easier said than done of course, the tiniest movement sending frigid air shooting between the sheets. Sapping what little warmth you’d managed to create in the first place, leaving you cold and shaking all over again.

Grumbling to yourself about your less than favorable luck, you wrapped the thin sheets around yourself as best you could before climbing out of bed. Only half surprised when the ice cold floor met your naked feet. “Shit shit shit that’s cold!” Bolting from the room, you leapt from foot to foot, heading towards the kitchen. Wincing as the stark white tile came into view. Knowing that the sparkling white tile would be the one to end you. Turn you into a living breathing popsicle. There would be no finishing your mission if you were frozen! Who would back genji up?

Who would take care of your goldfish back at the base?!

Your eyes screwed shut, preparing for the inevitable shock of cold. Ready for the end. But, it never came. The icy claws of death never touched your flesh. Why?

A pair of arms encircled you, hard metal and rigid edges pressing into you on either side of the sheets. They held you up just inches above the stinging cold floor.

“What are you doing?” It was hard to miss the mirth in his voice, ringing clear in the quiet room. Sending goosebumps shooting down your arms. “If it weren’t for your feet, I might’ve mistaken you for a ghost.”

“Hey!” You cursed the sudden rush of blood pooling in your cheeks. The only surge of heat your body seemed able to produce. “It’s freezing in here, in case you haven’t noticed!” You didn’t dare look at him, refusing to let him see just how your body reacted to being so close to him.

“Is it really that cold?” There was something in the cyborg’s tone that you hadn’t heard in a long time. It sounded lighter, younger, and not as guarded as normal. “I can regulate my body’s temperature. So, the cold doesn’t pose much of a problem….”

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Your lips twitched, curling into a small smile. “How lucky.”

“Not at all.” The ninja replied. Shifting his hold on you as he made his way back to the couch he’d been resting on earlier. “I wouldn’t consider not being able to feel your warmth lucky, would you?”

You gaped, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. How could he just say things like that? If at all possible, your face grew even darker as Genji plopped back down on the couch. Careful not to jostle you as he wrapped the sheet even tighter around your form. Taking special care to make sure your feet were covered as well.

He offered a one shouldered shrug as he settled back against the cushions. “This is the most I can do for now.”

Confused, and still heavily embarrassed by your close proximity, you opened your mouth to ask what he meant when a gentle hum filled the air. Warmth pouring into your flesh from the outside. From Genji.

He was raising his own temperature to warm you up.

You leaned back, staring at the man before you with a mixture of awe and adoration. “Genji, you don’t have to-”

“-you said you were cold,” He cut in, pulling you closer if only to avoid your gaze. He’d wanted to hold you like this for so long, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. “I will….keep you warm.” Once more he nudged you closer, trying to tuck your head under his chin. 

There was no denying the fact that the warmth radiating off his armor was making you drowsy. Slowly warming your frozen muscles. But, you didn’t want to sleep now! You couldn’t get over how adorable Genji was being. You wanted to talk-about anything, about everything! But, you yawned and genji laughed, head thrown back, chest heaving.

His laughter died down to a light chuckle, arms winding their way around you even tighter. “Sleep. We have work to do in the morning.”

Once more your body betrayed you, snuggling closer even as you protested, weakly. Eyelids drooping as you tried and failed to fight off yet another yawn. “You’d better be here when I wake up….”

He chuckled once more, metallic fingers working their way through your hair. “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”


	10. Even The Reaper Can't Control Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Reaper's turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving on to the next angst piece starring everyone's favorite soul stealer.

The wounds usually don’t start to sting until much later. When the adrenaline is wearing off, and you’re licking your wounds in some run down safe house as sirens wail outside. Usually, you were in and out with no problems. Taking, or killing whoever you were tasked to before slipping away into the unknown. That was how things usually went.

But, not this time.

This time your body was screaming at you as you barreled around yet another corner, gritting your teeth when your shoulder slammed into the brick, red splotches left in your wake. Gunshots rang out from the rooftops, the sound of those massive guns sends a wave of relief washing over you. Along with clueing you into your partner’s position. As if the bodies raining from the sky weren’t enough of a sign.

You shout into your comm as you leap over a guard, kneeing him in the face, “Reaper, which way?” The crunch of his nose is satisfying, but short lived. “Things aren’t looking good for us!” 

You’d had a bad feeling about this whole mission since the beginning. The information was too detailed, the timing too perfect...It just reeked of a setup. But, when Talon issued orders, you followed. And they wanted someone out of the picture. So, they sent one of their best, Reaper, along with yourself to get the job done.

Which you had, of course. Orders were orders, and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed because of some ‘gut feelings’. But, it hadn’t been easy. There had been guards, a lot of them, and they were skilled.

They knew you were coming, just as you’d feared.

It was just the two of you, the higher ups had decided that the two of you would be more than enough to get the job done. Without any kind of backup. 

Just goes to show how disposable they considered their soldiers.

Yet another body slammed into the ground right in front of you. Wrapped in an inky black smoke you knew all too well. Glassy eyes stared unseeing at the rapidly darkening sky. Mouth agape and face twisted into one of horror. But, your attention is on the swirling mass converging upon itself above the corpse. Becoming bigger, thicker, and less corporeal. A head appears, then shoulders, and a torso. Crimson is the color of the eyes that peer at you from deep within the mask. It’s hard to miss the way they glance over your form, noting every wound before settling back on your shoulder.

The white bone mask is striking in the dimming light, and when he speaks his voice is deep yet soft, just above a growl. “South. Towards the dock, follow me.” He’s already moving before his sentence is finished, boots pounding against the pavement. You don’t need to be told twice, breaking into a run as the first heavy drops of rain fall from the sky. 

The same black smoke pours from the slits in his mask with every step. He’s agitated, nervous even. It shows in the stiffness of his spine, the tension in his neck. He’s on the lookout for something, something far worse than the guards currently on your tail. His unease is contagious, it coats you like a second skin. Worming it's way down your throat and into your lungs-choking you. 

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you followed Reaper around yet another corner--right into a barrage of missiles. The explosions swallow up everything around you, so loud that it's silent. Pain consumes you, shooting across your body, burning it's way into your flesh until you can do nothing but scream. And scream you do, until the ground gives way beneath you, and the last thing you see before surrendering to the pain is an inky black cloud descending upon you.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The pain is still there when you wake, clawing at every nerve like an enraged animal. Tears flood your vision, and your eyes burn. But, it isn’t just from the pain. There’s a foul stench in the air, and when you try bring your hand up to cover your mouth a fresh wave of pain rolls through you. Only when you look down do you finally notice the bloody stump in place of what used to be your arm, and your legs are in no better shape, crudely wrapped in bits of black cloth. Seeing the bits of bone and flesh only seems to magnify your pain now that you see it's cause with your own two eyes. Each breath feels like a million tiny needles are being shoved into your skin, even the air hurts. 

That realization gives birth to a new question. Where were you, and how did you get here? Suddenly your thoughts turn to Reaper, he was the only one who could’ve saved you. What was left at least. But, that attack had left you in this kind of condition, what did that mean for him?

You take a deep breath, intent on calling out to him, but the smell causes you to gag, and you choke on the scream building in your throat. 

A sewer, you had to be in a sewer, it was the only explanation for such an odor that made sense. But, how long would you be able to hide down here? Surely, those guards wouldn’t rest until they brought you in, dead or alive. 

But, at the rate you were bleeding out, it seemed like the former was more likely. You were lost, floating on the haze of pain and blood loss. The rancid smell of waste constantly attacking your stomach. It was no surprise that you didn’t believe your eyes when Reaper finally limped back into view, clutching his side. He knelt before you with a hiss, looking over your injuries quickly before tapping your face with that clawed gauntlet of his. 

Your eyes slide over to his unfocused form, you can hear the deep rumble of his voice, but the words aren’t sticking. All you can focus on is the crack in his mask, and the crimson trail that leaks from it. Something about Sombra...and a boat?

He growls when you merely stare at him, shifting closer as he repeats his previous sentence. Albeit much slower this time. “Sombra has our position. She’s got a boat waiting for us at the dock, I’ll be able to treat your injuries properly once we get there, got it?”

“Yes,” Your voice cracks halfway through your answer, but it's enough for him. His gauntlets are wet, stained with blood when he reaches for you, and it's impossible to tell if it's yours or his. But, you can feel the lukewarm liquid seeping into your suit. One hand under your arms, the other under your thighs. Lifting you with a jerking motion that quickly sets him off balance and has him stumbling into a wall.

More blood pushes its way out from the crack in his mask, trailing down to his chin. Only when he releases a shuddering breath of black smoke, do you connect the dots. 

He’s hurt, too. And badly.

You can feel it, the way his arms tremble beneath your weight, his uneven steps. And still he’d come back for you. Even in his condition.

The ground rumbles, shaking beneath the wraith’s feet. The sound of falling rocks echoes within the tunnel. Reaper, growls, uttering a small “Fuck” under his breath. They must be clearing away the debris from where you’d fallen down here in the first place. Your eyes fly from his hunched and limping from to the dark mouth of the tunnel where shouts can be heard. Growing louder and louder by the second. 

Your stomach sinks. Even with your mind blinded by pain you can see the outcome of this scenario quite clearly. Neither one of you is going to make it out of here. You being unable to move on your own, and him buckling under your weight. There was no backup, no one to call for help. No hope of them making it in time even if they answered.

You were alone.

“Put...me down.” The words are forced through gritted teeth, quiet and laced with pain. But, your mind knows what must be done. What has to happen to ensure that the you escape.

Well, one of you at least.

The wraith grunts, barely acknowledging the fact that you’d spoken. Focusing on remaining upright and maneuvering through the sewers. It isn’t until you repeat yourself that he casts you the slightest glance. Those crimson eyes boring into your own. “Quiet.”  
But you insist, gripping the back of his neck with your remaining hand. Even as he shakes his head, losing his balance once more only to collide with the damp sewer wall where he sags. “You can’t carry me all the way…..not when you’re hurt like this-”

“-Shut up!” Your words only seem to anger him, and he tries to lurch upright, but he loses his footing and crumples to the ground, taking you with him. His mask is more red than white at this point, dripping with the crimson liquid. It coats your fingers, dribbles down your wrist when you force his chin up, force him to meet your gaze. 

“I’m just dead weight right now.”

He snarls, defiant, wisps of smoke breaking off from his body in his anger. It's touching, knowing that he won’t leave you, that he’s willing to risk his own life to save yours.

But, for once you wish that he wasn’t so stubborn.

Your fingers are unsteady as they close around the grenade, the lever heavy against your palm. The incendiary grenades attached to your ammo belt weren’t made for this, but that doesn’t matter. If you have to use them to end your life, that’s what you’re going to do. Because there’s no way in hell you’re just going to let them capture you.

The man above you stiffens at the sight of the canister in your hand, clawed hands reaching to take the thing from you, but too unsure of whether or not you would take his actions the wrong way. “[Y/N]....put it down.” 

You only shake your head, clutching the grenade to your chest as you feel the burn of fresh tears behind your eyes. “No, I’m done and you know it. You’ve always told me to be realistic, and now I am!”

“This isn’t what I meant!” His anger is explosive, form shifting between something physical and comprised entirely of smoke. Emotions running rampant. He tries to pry the grenade from your hands, but your grip is firm. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here!”

Footsteps echoed off the walls, closing in fast, murmurs, too many for them to handle.

It was now or never.

You look at the man before you, eyes impossibly wide as the sounds grow closer. “Gabriel, please.” There’s only one other option that comes to mind, but you’re sure he’ll hate it just as much. “I know you don’t like this...But, the only other choice we have is for you to devour me.”

He’s goes so still that for a moment you fear that you’ve broken him. Until he pulls away, curling his hands against the wound in his side. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you. Just tries to keep himself together.

“I-I know you don’t like that idea either..” Your voice cracks, and you only manage the barest hint of a smile as you talk around the knot forming in your throat, “But, you know it will heal you, right? And hopefully give you enough strength to get out of here alive...These are our only two options, Gabriel.”

He jerks his head away from you, towards the guards that should be on top of you any second now. “Fuck those options. I’ll find another way.”

You laugh, you can’t help it. Even as the tears finally spill. That man was so damned stubborn! “I’m going to die soon, Gabriel. Whether you like it or not-Whether you’re ready or not, this is the end of the line for me….” A growl bubbled up within him and he curses, intent on interrupting you. But you don’t give him a chance, talking over him. “....At least let me save you.”

He stays silent, not moving for what feels like an eternity. The sag of his shoulder is the sign of his defeat, the closest thing you’ll get to an agreement, and you waste no time in reaching out to him. Coaxing him into a one armed hug, cooing into against the leather of his hood. Repeating over and over again how this was your decision, how you had no regrets.

His hands are shaking when he fumbles with his mask, pushing the thing up over his head to reveal his mouth and the ashen pallor of his skin. Lips hovering just inches above yours. For a second you fear that he's changed his mind again.

And then he takes a breath. Chest expanding under the mass of black leather and Kevlar, eyes burning bright in the almost nonexistent light of the sewer. He inhales like a vacuum, way past the limit that any person should be capable of. Those gauntlets frame your face, keeping you still as the first pulls at your soul take hold.

It's hard to explain what it feels like to have your souls ripped from your body. To be split in two without any physical part of you actually being torn. It hurts, but at the same time you feel nothing. Just a creeping sense of cold spiraling outward from your chest. Tiny wisps of red and black pour from your mouth and into his, and the effect is immediate. Color begins to pour back into his flesh, the gash on his face knits itself back together before your eyes.

He's healing… and you're fading.

Darkness envelopes you before long, but you aren't afraid. It's warm, like the mornings you spent in bed together, hiding from the sun and your responsibilities. Curled up in each other's arms. It surrounds you on all sides, cradles you as your form begins to waver. The last vestiges of your soul being absorbed into him.

_Don't worry….I’m here, Gabriel. I'll always be here….I promise._

The wail that erupts from the wraith is more beastial than human. It's sorrowful cry coating the walls, and stopping the guards in their tracks. Smoke fills the tunnel, billowing out from the figure hunched over what could only be described as a mutilated corpse. 

One guard takes a step forward as the beast wails again, arms wrapped around itself clawing at it's own gut. He lifts his gun, voice sounding impossibly small in comparison. “You there, hands up where I can see them!” 

In the blink of an eye claws score his flesh, tearing through his armor. Smoke converges before the group, filling the massive tunnel with it's presence. Undeterred by their panicked screams and uncoordinated fire. Their bullets pass right through him. Twin suns blaze within the dark storm above them, unblinking and unforgiving.

Their screams echo throughout the sewers for hours on end, laced with pain and fear. Nothing will be left of those guard after he has his way with them.

Nothing.


	11. Genji: Morning Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji actually wakes up pretty early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sin or angst. But something short and sweet I wrote from a random prompt.

The cheery pop tunes that come blaring out of the speakers on Genji’s phone at 3 am, instill in him a feeling that consists of equal parts rage and excitement.

It’s that time again.

Even as his eyes sting from the lack of sleep, the young man rolls out of bed, feet hitting the floor with a thump. Maneuvering his way through the jungle that is his bedroom by touch alone. His sight still too bleary from sleep to offer much help. It’s a surprise when he manages to avoid stubbing his toe on something.

Only when his bare feet meet the chill of the bathroom tiles do Genji’s eyes actually open. Stinging and heavy. What he wouldn’t do to be back in his bed right now.

But, he gets into the shower anyway, scrubbing away at both his body and teeth to save time. He’s in and out in under ten minutes, the scalding hot water waking him up and leaving his skin flushed and steaming. He doesn’t care. Pulls on a clean pair of gray pants and a white t-shirt. One that he’d won during one of his many nights out. The logo, a bright orange sun gleaming on the back.

3:15. He’s running out of time.

In a flash he’s climbing out the window of his second-story bedroom, pausing just long enough to make sure the guards stationed below are where they should be. Sneaking across the roof to the opposite side, and hopping down onto one of the many walls surrounding their mansion. He pauses, frozen, listening to the sounds of the early morning before slipping down the other side.

3:20. This one is going to be close.

Genji is outright sprinting across the lawn when his phone chimes a second time, ducks low to smack the lever to the water pump as he hurtles by. The hose is right where the gardener left it, coiled and tucked away out of sight. It's in his hands mere seconds later.

3:24.

He skids across the wet grass, coming to a stop at the border of the lawn, where the massive collection of colorful buds have bloomed into something magical. Fiddling with the hose and nearly drenching himself in the process before he’s able to find the correct spray nozzle and--

\--”Good morning, Genji.”

“Good Morning!” The words fly out of his mouth as his head jerks to the left, to the break between the walls that separate the Shimada estate from the rest of the world. “Nice day for a run, huh?” He winces, pretty sure his voice cracked somewhere in that last sentence.

You smile and wave, hair bounding in your high ponytail as you jog along. Eventually rounding the corner and disappearing from his sight. Just like always.

His arms fall to his sides as he watches the corner you turned down. Wishing against all odds that you would turn around and speak to him for just a little longer. But, you don’t. And even though it stings now, Genji knows he’ll be dragging himself out of bed at the same time tomorrow. Just for the chance that he might get to actually speak to you again.

A wry smile spreads across the youngest Shimada’s lips, and he swings the hose to the side, sprinkling the assortment of foliage with some much-needed water. Releasing a sigh that seems to suck all the strength from his limbs, “I’ve got it so bad….”


End file.
